


to light the way, to bring you home

by just_another_outcast



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Big Bro JT, Bromance, Crash Landing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of tears, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel Friendship, Malcolm Bright Whump, No MCD, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective JT Tarmel, Team as Family, Torture, bear traps, canon minor character death, coworkers to friends to family, mainly focuses on Mal and JT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_outcast/pseuds/just_another_outcast
Summary: If one thing in the world is true, it's that Malcolm's past always comes back to haunt him. Revenge for a collar he made in the FBI lands both Malcolm and a very annoyed JT in the middle of nowhere, running for their lives from some very pissed off bad guys, with absolutely no backup in sight. Strength is tested, secrets are revealed, and an unbreakable brotherhood is forged.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Dani Powell, Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel
Comments: 106
Kudos: 204





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the first chapter of my first multichapter fic for Prodigal Son. I am soooo excited for the many whumpy things I have in store for this, as well as the beautiful bromantic moments to come. The title basically comes from the song Brother by NEEDTOBREATHE (although technically I was listening to the amazing cover done by Tyler Braden when I decided on the title). I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review :)

"You want me to do what?"

There was no way that Gil was being serious. Gil wouldn't ask JT to do something like that. He'd ask Dani, not JT. Yet there he stood, in Gil's office, his lieutenant making an outrageous request.

"I need you to go with Bright to this conference. I don't want him going alone," Gil reiterated with a shake of his head.

"You can't be serious," JT said around a smile, hoping beyond hope that Gil was, for some reason, playing a prank on him, despite the fact that the man had never pranked JT before and there was no reason to think he would start. Gil didn't crack a smile and tell him that he was kidding, to get back to work. He just stared at JT with a straight face. He wasn't kidding. "Boss, come on," JT almost whined. "Bright is a grown man who can take care of himself. He doesn't need me to babysit him on a trip to a psychology conference in DC. I will die if I go there. All those nerds, everyone there just like Bright? I can't take that."

"You're gonna have to, because you're going," Gil insisted. He didn't look at all amused.

"Why can't Dani go? She likes Bright more than I do, anyway," JT pointed out in a last ditch effort to get out of the assignment, knowing full well that he sounded like a petulant child.

"Because I said so." Gil continued to just stare him down, forcing JT to acquiesce. The man would not be swayed. Finally, JT nodded, giving a heavy and dramatic sigh as he did so. "You know someone needs to go with him, JT. That kid gets in trouble everywhere he goes. Do you really think letting him go to DC, specifically to somewhere where he's bound to run into people he knows, people who hate him, alone, is a good idea?"

"Did he agree to this?" JT asked, dodging Gil's question. He knew his boss was right, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Actually, yes," Gil replied, crossing his arms with a grin. "He told me he wanted to go to this conference, so I told him he only could if you went with him. He said that was fine."

JT took a moment to reply, knowing that it was best not to point out the fact that Bright had basically asked Gil's permission to go on a field trip and the man had told him he could if he had a chaperone. Not for the first time, JT almost laughed at how much of a dad Gil was to Bright, and how eagerly Bright accepted that.

"Alright, then," he finally responded. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow, I think," Gil replied. "Go ask Bright, he'll give you all the details." Gil sat back down at his desk and went back to his reports, a clear indication that JT was dismissed. Shaking his head, JT left, and went to find Bright. If he grumbled and complained under his breath while he did so, only Dani was close enough to hear it.

"What's got you all bothered?" she asked him from her perch on top of her desk, only sparing him a glance. She sat there, her feet on top of her chair, a report in her hands. JT had long given up on asking her why she never chose to use chairs in the way they were meant to be used.

"Gil's making me go with Bright to DC for some psychology conference thing," he complained. "There's gonna be a bunch of nerds there talking about nerdy stuff and doing nerdy things." JT sighed and flopped into his own desk chair.

"Sounds right up your alley," Dani said with a grin. She turned back to her reports, continuing to chew on her pen around her smile.

"Very funny," JT deadpanned. "I gotta go find Bright and find out when we leave and the flight information and all that." He sighed again, then pushed himself up and away from his desk like it was a monumental task. If he had to go the overcrowded airport and get on an overcrowded plane, then he wished he was with Tally and they were going to Tahiti, not with Bright of all people, going to DC.

Bright's desk was right by his and Dani's, but the profiler wasn't there. So where was he? He had to finish his reports for their latest closed case just like everyone else, and he'd been there earlier that day.

"Do you know where he went?" JT asked, turning back to Dani and pointing with his thumb towards Bright's desk. Dani looked up at him, then motioned with her head towards the doors. Bright was just walking in, and he was carrying a tray of coffee. A peace offering?

"For you," Bright said with a smile, taking one of the beverages out of the tray and holding it up to JT. "It's your favorite," he said. Eyes narrowed, JT accepted it, and brought it up to his lips. He took a careful sip, then nodded approvingly.

"So it is," he said. JT couldn't remember ever telling Bright what his favorite kind of coffee was, yet the kid knew it. There was no way that he had been able to figure out something as random as someone's favorite flavor of coffee through his freaky Jedi mind trick profiling stuff. JT just couldn't buy that. Someone must have just told him.

"And for you," Bright continued, holding out another beverage to Dani. She accepted hers with a genuine smile and soft "thanks". Bright set one more on his own desk, then headed towards Gil's office, the final coffee in his hand. JT turned back to Dani.

"What do you think the bribery is for?" he asked her.

Dani rolled her eyes. "Maybe he's just being nice. He does want to be friends, remember? Not everyone has an ulterior motive." She lowered her voice a bit, taking a quick glance over at Gil's office, where Bright still was. "He wants you to like him, okay? Can't you see that he wants you to want to be his friend?"

JT held up his hands defensively. "I don't hate the guy or anything, it's just-"

"He's different, I know, like Gil first said when we met, he's an acquired taste, but he's a good person, and you've seen how much he cares," Dani argued. She leaned a little bit closer after taking another look over at Gil's office. "And I know you like Bright more than you let anyone, especially him, know. So how about you take this opportunity in DC to get to know him as more than just a colleague."

He sighed. This did seem to be really important to Dani, and JT knew it was important to Gil. Gil had always loved the kid, obviously, and Dani had grown to care about him a lot. Edrisa's affection for Bright was obvious to literally everyone, leaving JT as the only member of their team to hold back. Deep down, JT knew that Dani was right, that he had already accepted Bright as one of their own much more than he let on, so why wouldn't he show it? He wasn't sure that he even knew the answer to that question.

"Okay, fine, I'll give it my best shot," he relented, taking another sip of the best coffee he'd had in a long time. Clearly Bright hadn't settled for the bargain brew, or even something as expensive as only Starbucks - which, on a cop's salary, got expensive pretty quickly. This coffee was the best of the best, but there wasn't a label anywhere on the cup. Bright had splurged somewhere, getting the most expensive and delicious coffee for them that New York City had to offer. JT sighed. Bright was a good kid. He deserved more of a chance than JT had been giving him.

Bright walked back out of Gil's office, a smile still on his face.

"You good to go tomorrow?" he asked JT.

"Yeah, yeah," JT muttered. He still wasn't happy about it. "What time is the flight? And where's it leaving from? JFK or LaGuardia?"

"It's at 10am, but we're actually leaving from Teterboro Airport, in Jersey," Bright said, his smile falling only slightly. He seemed to be in a remarkably good mood for someone who hated paperwork as much as he did - maybe that was why he had left in search of the city's best and most expensive coffee, an excuse to leave.

"The airport where they arrested Epstein?" JT clarified. Bright cringed, but nodded nonetheless. "Why? They don't fly commercial out of there."

"That's because we're not flying commercial," Bright responded, grin back on his face. "I got us a private jet." The kid was practically bouncing on his toes in excitement. JT glanced over at Dani, who was clearly pretending not to pay attention, but her grin gave her away. His voice suddenly grew serious once more. "Also, I know my family is wealthy, but I promise we never had anything to do with Epstein. My father being a serial killer is the worst thing about us, I promise," he affirmed, his eyes searching JT's as if it was paramount that he knew that The Surgeon truly was the worst thing about his family.

"Yeah, I believe you," JT said, dismissing the comment with a wave of his hand. "But why on earth would you hire a private jet? Just because you can?"

"Well, I thought you might like it," Bright replied, his hands going into his pockets. He was starting to look a little nervous, as if he'd messed up. "I know you don't really want to be going to the conference, so I thought maybe getting a private jet would be fun for you. I'm covering all the expenses, so it's not like you have to pay for anything. I just figured it would be different, and maybe fun, for you, hopefully," he said, looking up at JT with those big blue eyes, looking like a puppy who just wanted approval. JT sighed. He wasn't a monster enough to kick a puppy.

"Alright, sure, why not," he said through clenched teeth. This day just got better and better.

"Great!" Bright replied, his smile quickly returning. "Adolpho will pick you up, so you don't have to leave your car there."

"I don't need-"

"No, I insist," Bright interrupted. JT looked over at Dani, silently asking her to back him up on this. Dani beamed at the two of them.

"I think it sounds like a wonderful idea," she said.

"Traitor," JT mouthed at her. She only chuckled and returned to her report - well, returned to pretending to work on her report, since she was clearly still very clued in to the conversation around her. "Okay, then," JT said. Clearly arguing with Bright just wasn't worth it.

"Great," Bright repeated, then finally went back to his own desk. He audibly sighed upon opening his report back up. JT couldn't bring himself to feel bad.

...

Bright and early the next morning, Adolpho showed up outside of JT's house, just as Bright had said he would. After kissing Tally and her pregnant belly goodbye, JT walked out the door and put his duffle bag in the trunk, next to another duffle bag and a garment bag, likely containing the kid's signatures suits. He opened the door and slid in next to Bright, who seemed much too happy in light of JT's suffering.

"Only a few more months now, isn't it?" Bright asked him. He had to be referring to the baby.

"Yep, only two months to go," JT confirmed, nodding. He really didn't want to get into a conversation with Bright about babies, or, worse yet, fathers. He really didn't want to get into a conversation with Bright, period. It was bad enough that he had to go to a psychology conference with the younger man, they didn't need to add small talk and make things worse.

A little voice in the back of his mind reminded JT that he'd promised Dani he would make an effort with Bright. As much as he tried to force that little voice down, his conscience wouldn't let him. He was a man of his word.

"How are... things?" JT asked, cursing himself for not being able to come up with something, anything, better than that. Small talk was just not his thing.

"'How are things?'" Bright repeated, looking at him in extreme disbelief, a massive smile on his face as he held back laughter.

"Whatever, I won't even try," JT responded before Bright could say anything else, but he did have to smile at his own awkwardness, and at the light laugh that it gave Bright.

They stayed quiet the rest of the drive to the airstrip, which was okay with JT. He was sure that he would have to endure a lot of Bright's near constant chatter over the next four days, so he would take the peace and quiet where he could get it.

Adolpho dropped them off right by the jet - JT still couldn't believe that Bright had his own driver, did the kid even have a license of his own? - and drove off after they got their luggage out of the trunk.

"Is this your own pilot too?" JT asked, not even sure himself if he were asking sarcastically or not.

"No," Bright replied around a smile. "We don't have a pilot on retainer. There is a pilot we usually use, but he had to back out last minute this time. He recommended this one though." Bright took his garment bag across his arm and held the duffle bag with the opposite shoulder, adjusting them slightly as he made his way up the stairs that had been extended down for them. Shaking his head at the fact that there were people who existed that did in fact have personal pilots on retainer, JT followed him.

"Good morning, Mr. Bright," the pilot said as soon as they stepped foot onto the small jet. He enunciated his words a lot more than most people did, and had a cheery smile that looked permanently stuck on his face.

"Just, Bright, is fine," the kid answered him with that kind smile he always wore, extending a hand to shake. The man took it, his motions stiff but professional.

He turned to JT. "And..."

"Detective Tarmel," JT finished for him. He held out a hand to shake the pilot's too, and made sure to shake the man's hand a little harder than necessary, hoping to maybe shake some of the man's stiffness away.

"I will be your pilot for this journey. I am Captain Stover," the man said, his cheery smile finally falling into something a bit more natural. He straightened his coat, but then took a more relaxed posture, losing some of his earlier stiffness as well.

"Captain Reynolds has you highly recommended," Bright said, his own posture becoming more stiff in response.

"He is an excellent pilot," Stover conceded. He dipped his head slightly in respect. "Now, if you willl please take your seats, we will be departing shortly." JT and Bright both nodded, then went to put their luggage in the bins as the pilot went back to the cockpit, closing the door behind him.

"Is it just me, or was that totally weird? I mean, I've never met a pilot on a private jet before, but that did not feel right," JT said, eyebrows raised as he looked between Bright and the cockpit.

Bright plopped down into the seat next to him, a confused frown on his face. "It's not just you. His body language and vocal inflection was all off, but I'm not sure what conclusions to draw from it yet, other than that maybe English isn't his first language."

"Why can't your normal pilot fly?" JT asked.

"He called me last night, told me he had to back out because of a family emergency. He seemed really upset, so I didn't push for details. He recommended this guy, said he's one of the best pilots he knows," Bright answered, still staring at the cockpit instead of back at JT. What Bright was saying definitely wasn't making JT feel any better.

"What are the chances he's just a weird dude and we're jumpin' at shadows?" JT asked, leaning over a bit to get into Bright's line of sight. Finally, the kid turned away from the cockpit to look at him.

"Well, in the normal population, the chances of that are pretty high, but with us..." Bright trailed off for a moment, smiling sardonically and shaking his head. "Things always seem to be something with us." JT scoffed, but couldn't disagree. The amount of cases they'd had since Bright had joined the team that turned out to be connected to the kid's past was startling to say to the least. "We should have time to ask Gil to look into it before take off." Bright pulled out his phone, but frowned at it. "No service?" he muttered. JT took out his own phone, only to see the same no service message. Something was definitely wrong.

"Should we be gettin' off the plane?" JT asked, this time completely serious. But before Bright could answer, they both felt the jet begin to move. Theirs was the only flight leaving that morning, so they had the whole runway open to them. The jet immediately began to speed up. JT looked over at Bright, eyes slightly wide. "I guess not," he said. The jet lifted off, forcing both JT and Bright back in their seats. They began to level off soon enough, but JT could still feel the jet rising, just like it was supposed to. Sure, the departure had been quicker than expected, but it had gone smoothly. Maybe everything really was fine.

But part of JT was scared to accept that, knowing that it wasn't a good idea. If it were only JT, then maybe, but this was Bright. The damn kid always got himself into trouble somehow, that being the very reason why Gil had insisted that JT had to accompany him to the conference in DC.

"We have no service, so we can't find anything out about this guy, so I guess I'll just have to go talk to him myself," Bright said with a shrug, making a move to stand up.

"Oh hell, no," JT interjected. "If this guy is some psycho killer, then you goin' up and talkin' to him is not a good idea, you'll get yourself killed. And if this guy is just a pilot, and we're wrong, then you'll only be distracting him from his job of flying the damn plane that we're on," he insisted. It was true, they didn't have very many options, but that didn't mean that Bright's idea was a good one.

"First off, it's a jet, not a plane," Bright unhelpfully pointed out. "And second, talking to 'psycho killers', is kind of my thing, and if he's planning on killing us, then his plan probably isn't to do it while in the cockpit, so I'd be disrupting his plan, and thus either buying us more time, or drastically shortening it. I'm not working with a lot here." He shrugged again, once more moving to stand. JT held out his arm and stopped him again.

"At the very least, wait until the jet has leveled off," JT said, really only to be a contrarian. He couldn't let Bright win at everything. "With your luck we'll hit some turbulence and you'll fall and break your freakin' nose," he muttered.

"Aww," Bright replied in mock gratitude, putting his hand on his heart. "You do care." JT rolled his eyes, but didn't deny it. Bright chuckled, but nodded in acquiescence with JT's request. "I guess I can wait until we level off, especially if we're gonna die anyway."

JT just nodded, choosing to ignore Bright's words, then settled further into his seat. For about the next ten minutes, he and Bright waited, neither one bothering to hide their nervous ticks - Bright's constantly shaking hand was joined by his bouncing leg, and JT worried the inside of his lip and kept wiping his palms on his thighs.

Finally, once they'd reached cruising altitude, Bright stood up and took a deep breath.

"Don't do anything stupid," JT told him with a shake of his head.

"Do I ever?" Bright fired back with a smile. He took a step forward, then quickly turned back to JT. "Maybe you shouldn't answer that."

"Ya think?" JT muttered in reply. Bright made his way over to the door to the cockpit, and, finding the door locked, knocked.

"Hey, Captain Stover, can I have a word?" he asked through the door. After a moment, he knocked again, louder. "Captain Stover?" Still, no reply. Bright glanced to JT in concern, then put his ear right against the door. He looked back at JT once more. "I can hear him, he's talking with someone over the radio, but it's not in any language I know. Sounds eastern European, but not Russian." He tried the door again, but it was very much locked. "Captain Stover!" he called out once more. JT got up and walked over. Bright stepped aside.

"Don't make me break down this door!" JT shouted, adding a few loud bangs on the door with the side of his fist for extra measure. Stover started shouting into the radio, but still didn't acknowledge them. "What is that?" he asked Bright, in reference to the foreign language. "Romanian? Serbian?"

"I don't know, something like that," Bright said. "Either way, we can't understand it, so you can do your thing and break the door down," he said, stepping back and gesturing towards the door, giving JT a patient smile, as if they weren't maybe about to be murdered by a pilot who may or may not actually have been a real pilot.

JT sent Bright a quick glare before returning his attention to the door. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Having to kick down a door on the very jet they were on was just one of the many reasons why JT wished Gil had told Dani to go with Bright instead. Just like he would kick down any suspect's door, JT raised up his leg, and struck the door with all of his might.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

"Damn," he muttered, gearing up to try again. Bright stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Post 9/11 enhanced air travel security," he said, as if the idea had just hit him but was obvious now that he recalled it. "This is a new jet, designed to be un-hijackable."

"That word is definitely made up," JT muttered, but stepped back from the door nonetheless.

"Aren't they all? But anyway, the door isn't gonna come down, not like that anyway," Bright replied. He moved back to the door and put his ear against it. "Yeah, he's still yelling about something, probably us."

Whatever he was planning, JT was not going to just stand there and let it happen, unbreakable door or not. That just wasn't in his blood. So what were they supposed to do?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the outpouring of support on this fic! I've already gotten such amazing feedback, and I can't thank you enough. I regret that I don't have the time to answer every review individually, because they all mean the absolute world to me :) There is a chance that I won't be able to update for the next two weeks due to family being in town this week and me being out of town next week. As you can imagine, beyond me not having time to write, there's a lot of stress as well. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!

"Would a bullet get through that door?" JT asked him, somewhat rhetorically, since there was no reason for Malcolm to know the answer to that.

"Maybe, but that's not necessarily our best option," Malcolm answered. He gave JT the look like he always did when he was coming up with some crazy plan that Gil would hate but ultimately go along with, thus forcing JT to go along with too. "This door here-" he pointed a thumb at the exit door "-is the only way off this jet. Unless this man plans on killing himself as well as us, which is highly doubtful, or else he wouldn't be yelling so passionately into his radio, then he'll have to come out of the cockpit in order to make any kind of escape. If you have a gun, you might be able to persuade him to stay."

"And what if he has a gun too?" JT shot back. "Just waiting for him to come out and hoping that I'm the only one with a gun is not the upper hand I like."

Malcolm pondered for a second before answering. "Even if he does have a gun, I doubt he'll shoot us." At JT's look of 'what makes you so sure', Malcolm continued. "If he wanted to shoot us, why not do it at the airstrip? It's not as if there would have been witnesses. No, if he wants to kill us, he'll only do it by crashing the jet, and probably making it look like an accident. Finding our bodies with GSWs would make it clearly a homicide. The alternative is that he's trying to bring us somewhere other than our intended destination, but that's less likely, since then he probably would've tried to keep us in the dark about anything being wrong until we landed. No, the most likely scenario is that he's going to crash the jet and kill us, but I doubt he wants to die too, which leaves us at the original plan. He'll have to come out of the cockpit, and jump out this door with a parachute if he wants to live. We just have to wait him out and stop him from leaving." Malcolm nodded, secure enough in his plan. Well, it wasn't much of a plan, but it did seem to be their only option.

"We can't shoot him either though," JT pointed out. "I don't know about you, but I certainly don't know how to fly a plane. We need him alive and able to fly if we want to get out of this."

Malcolm sighed. "You're right, and if he's smart, he'll know that we can't hurt him. So, we need to convince him that the only way he'll survive is if he flies us to safety."

"Can't you just do one of your freaky Jedi mind tricks on him?"

"I can't profile when I have nothing to work with," Malcolm replied around a smile. As much as JT's teasing could get annoying - although at least it wasn't hurtful like it used to be - Malcolm did love Star Wars, so he couldn't be too mad about the comparison. "All we know is that he's Eastern European, and he's working for someone else, likely a larger organization. They have to have feelers everywhere to know that I was planning on attending the conference and traveling via private jet. They were able to get to my pilot and scare him into doing what they said, and getting me to replace him with one of their own. A plane crash is dramatic, over the top even, and much more difficult than simply killing us. It takes a lot more people to coordinate, and people to find the crash site and make sure we're dead before anyone else gets there. This is likely a revenge killing, the brutality of which makes me suspect we're dealing with the mafia, or some similar acting crime syndicate. Based on the language, likely Albanian." Malcolm stroked his chin in contemplation of his profile. Yeah, that seemed right.

"You got all that from having 'nothing to work with'?" JT asked sarcastically, but Malcolm could see his smile.

"Well, that's a profile of the bigger picture, of the organization, not this man planning on crashing the jet. Suspecting he's in the Albanian mob means nothing if it doesn't help me figure out how to stop him from doing this." Malcolm started pacing. He needed to think. There had to be a way out of this.

"How would he even open that door?" JT asked. "Don't they only open in emergencies? Something about air pressure making the door weigh two tons or something like that," he pondered.

Malcolm nodded. "Whatever he's planning, it doesn't mean anything good for us," he muttered. As much as he tried to hide it, the whole situation was bothering Malcolm a lot more than it normally would. If it were only Malcolm in danger, he wouldn't care much, but JT was just an innocent bystander. Whatever was going on, it wasn't about JT, it was about Malcolm, and the older man was just getting caught in the middle. That wasn't fair. It was one of the many reasons why Malcolm didn't have friends. He got everyone he cared about hurt, one way or another. Malcolm had been trying so hard to get JT to like him, finally feeling like he had a home at the precinct and could try to make friends again, and now, because of him, there was a good chance that JT was going to die in a jet crash. It was no wonder the man had always kept his guard up around Malcolm. He was a seasoned enough detective to be able to just know when someone was trouble. Malcolm lightly scoffed. For all the good that had done for JT this time.

"What is it?" JT asked, likely thinking his scoff had meant something to do with their current predicament.

"No, nothing, it's- it's nothing," Malcolm replied. He needed to refocus himself. They could still survive, they just needed to figure out how. "Since it isn't exactly easy to get one of these doors open," he gestured to the door, "Stover is going to have to change the pressure in the cabin, which definitely isn't good for us."

"That doesn't tell me what to do," JT pointed out in exasperation. Malcolm just shrugged. He didn't know what to do. It wasn't exactly a situation he had ever thought he'd find himself in before.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice falling a bit at the end. He was the profiler, he was supposed to have all the answers to save them, and yet he had nothing. Absolutely nothing. If Stover changed the cabin pressure in order to release the door, then there was a good chance that Malcolm and JT would both be down for the count, and unable to do anything to stop him. The change in pressure would likely be so sudden and so severe that both JT and Malcolm would be rendered useless in mere seconds without proper protection, while Stover, who they could assume would be wearing some form of SCBA in order to protect himself, would be escaping and leaving them to die. "If he changes the cabin pressure, there's nothing we can do, we'll die," he said. "Even if we get to the oxygen masks in time, Stover will be gone by then, and we can't fly a jet, so that's it. We die either way." Malcolm knew he was spiraling, but he just didn't know what to do. As the reality of the situation sunk in more and more, he realized just how helpless he was, and he couldn't do anything to change it.

"Dude, we're gonna figure it out," JT said, his voice surprisingly gentle. The man held out one of his hands, as if he were going to rest it on Malcolm's shoulder, but changed his mind. The hand turned into a fist, which then banged on the door to the cockpit once again. "Open up, Stover!" he shouted, but got no response. There weren't any voices in the cockpit any more, shouting into the radio in Albanian or otherwise. It was too quiet. Stover was about to do something.

"Whatever is going to happen, I think it's about to happen," Malcolm rushed out. JT jogged back to his bags and returned only a few seconds later with his Glock, his face perfectly calm.

"We've got this," JT said, sparing Malcolm a sincere glance before returning his attention entirely to the door.

Even expecting it, even knowing that it was coming, the sudden loss of cabin pressure was jarring. Malcolm felt a sharp pain in his nose and deep in his ears. Warm blood trickled down from what Malcolm knew to be burst blood vessels. At their altitude, he and JT had no more than a minute to act before it would be too late.

Malcolm struggled to keep his breathing even as more panic began to set in. He needed to breathe evenly if he stood any chance of surviving. JT's breaths were heavy, and a quick glance proved that he too was dealing with burst blood vessels. And yet, the door was still closed. The oxygen masks had fallen from their places, but if they moved to go put them on, they would likely miss their only opportunity to stop Stover. But if they didn't go put them on, they might be dead before the man even left the cockpit. Perhaps that was exactly what the man was planning on.

"Go grab a mask," JT ordered in a low voice, almost a growl. "I got this." But there was no way that JT would be able to handle everything on his own. Malcolm could already feel himself succumbing to the effects of hypoxia, if the sudden headache, dizziness, and fatigue were anything to go by. JT was surely suffering from the same effects.

"You too, come on," Malcolm insisted. Once they had oxygen masks, they could try to convince Stover to stay via use of JT's Glock. Clearly the man wasn't going to come out of the cockpit before the two of them were down for the count. With a grumble, JT followed Malcolm back to their seats, staggering slightly in their dizziness, and put on the life saving oxygen masks.

The sudden steady flow of oxygen into Malcolm's lungs felt practically euphoric. The fogginess that had been building in his mind started to fade away as the crisp air began to reduce the effects of hypoxia. The fatigue was only slightly reduced, but Malcolm could fight through it. He pointed at the door to the cockpit when it finally began to open, but JT was already on top of it, his gun still at the ready.

"Stover, stop!" JT shouted, but the pilot wasn't in any rush to obey. As Malcolm had suspected, he was wearing both a parachute pack and an SCBA, and was making his way to the door. "Don't!" JT shouted, then took a shot at the man.

Stover let out a shout of pain as his leg crumbled beneath him. The bullet had hit him in the thigh. Blood was quickly pooling around him, some shooting out at high velocity. That was an arterial spurt. JT had hit the man's femoral artery. Stover was going to bleed out and die, but maybe the man hadn't realized it yet.

"You better fix this plane or you're gonna die too!" JT shouted at the man. Neither Malcolm nor JT could stop the bleeding and keep their oxygen masks at the same time, since the masks hung from the ceiling, but the masks would only be useful for a few minutes anyway. Most jets and planes were only equipped with enough oxygen to last until the aircraft could be brought to a safe altitude, where the masks would no longer be required due to the safe pressure outside the plane. He and JT had already been using the oxygen for at least a minute, so they likely only had a minute or two left. But he could feel the jet descending, likely on a crash course with the Atlantic, or perhaps the Appalachians. Depending on how far they'd descended, the pressure could've equaled out and they would be fine. That was probably a risk that Malcolm was going to have to take.

The man cursed loudly in a language that Malcolm was just going to assume was Albanian until he was proven otherwise, and tried to put pressure on his own wound.

"I would rather die than let down my brothers," Stover said, all pretenses of being American gone. He had a thick Eastern European accent that he was no longer attempting to hide as he had been before. His voice was muffled by his mask just as JT's had been. Perhaps the man knew his time was ending after all.

That was it. It was time to take the risk. Malcolm wasn't going to take any more chances. With one final deep breath of the remaining oxygen, he quickly got over to the man and picked him up by the armpits, and began to drag him back into the cockpit.

"Bright, wait!" JT shouted. He let out a curse before taking his own deep breath and getting over to help Malcolm, weapon still drawn. Stover tried to fight them, but injured, he wasn't in any shape to take on an ex-FBI agent and an NYPD detective.

"It's really in your best interest to land this jet," Malcolm insisted as he tore the SCBA off the man. There was no way that if he and JT had to suffer any more hypoxia that Stover would be breathing easy. Whether the man knew he was dying or not, Malcolm was going to play any card he had in order to save his and JT's lives.

"I would rather die than let my brothers down," Stover repeated, glaring at the two of them. JT kept his gun focused on the man as Malcolm scurried into the pilot's seat. There was nothing but green hills below them, and it was getting closer. They were going to crash into the Appalachians.

"You really don't, trust me," Malcolm said, eyes wide as they roamed the various panels and controls that he had no idea what to do with. "Family can take advantage of you like no one else, try to get you to do things you'd never do, just because you're family and you trust them."

"If anyone knows that, he does," JT added from behind him. "You should trust him, and fly this damn plane back to the ground, safe and sound."

"If my death takes yours, then it will be worth it," the man seethed, but he was rapidly growing paler. He was losing a lot of blood. Malcolm and JT could breathe fine, but if they didn't land the jet, then it wouldn't matter, and all three of them were going to die.

"You didn't by any chance fly jets for the military, did you?" he asked JT as a last hope.

"Not even close," JT replied, but tucked his Glock into the front of his pants and came to stand beside Malcolm in the pilot's seat. The front of his pants was never JT's holding place of choice for his weapon, but with a bad guy behind them, Malcolm agreed that the small of his back was not the most advisable place to keep it.

"I still trust you on this more than me," Malcolm rushed out. He slid out of the seat and took a knee next to Stover. "Why do you want me dead?" he asked the man. Stover was definitely going to die, it was only a matter of time, but Malcolm wanted to get as much information from him as he possibly could. "Who are you working for?" It was a cliche line, but an important question. Stover didn't seem too keen on answering either one.

Instead, Stover spit in Malcolm's face. "Shko qij veten," he cursed through clenched teeth. Malcolm grimaced and wiped the spit off his face. He didn't need to speak Albanian to know what the man was instructing him to do. Trying to get him to say anything would be a dead end. He was too devoted to who he saw as family to betray their secrets, especially when he already knew he was doomed. Malcolm shook his head and moved back to JT.

"Any luck?" he asked, despite knowing the answer.

"We're completely cut off, there's no signal on any of the radio frequencies," JT answered as he took the headset off.

"Should I just start pressing buttons? I mean, it's not as if things can get worse," Malcolm suggested with a shrug. What else were they supposed to do? They couldn't even call their families and say goodbye, since they still didn't have any signal.

Stover let out a delusional sounding chuckle. "Oh, things can always get worse, boy," he said. Stover was leaning against the wall, his hands having fallen limp from where they had been pressed against his wound. He was fading quickly. They didn't have the tools to save him even if they were under normal circumstances.

Malcolm took his own suggestion and began pressing random buttons and flipping levers and turning dials. What was he going to do, crash the plane?

"Dude, what the hell?" JT chastised as he swatted Malcolm's hands away.

"Well what did you have in mind? We're going to die!" he shouted at JT in frustration. "You're going to die, and it's all my fault," he continued in a low voice. That painful reality had been slowly becoming more and more clear. "I'm so sorry, you don't deserve this."

"Stop," JT said, his voice and eyes both clear. "Whatever happens, it's on that dead nutjob." JT motioned towards the man on the floor behind them, who was now at least unconscious, if not dead. "And I'm not givin' up so easily." He turned his attention back to the control wheel.

"Will you at least tell me what JT stands for?" Malcolm asked as he buckled himself into the jump seat at the back of the cockpit. It was the only bit of safety he could procure. JT had strapped himself into the pilot's seat as well, and gave him a hearty laugh.

"Not on your life, kid," he said. "'Cause we're gettin' out of this. I'm gonna do what I can, you just hold on. People survive plane crashes all the time. We're gonna be just fine."

JT's voice sounded steady, but Malcolm's trained ear could pick out the subtle inflections that spoke to fear. The man was trying to stay strong for him, but Malcolm could tell that deep down, he was scared too.

Malcolm tried and failed to keep his breaths even as he scrambled to grab on to anything he could. He could see the mountains clearly. They were going to crash in mere seconds, and quite possibly die.

"JT, I'm so sorry," he rushed out one more time before closing his eyes and turning away. Malcolm held on as tight as he could, and prepared for oblivion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but things should be back to normal now. I have a love-hate relationship with that chapter, but I hope you guys like it anyway lol. Enjoy, and please leave a review :)

JT awoke to a ringing in his ears and a pounding behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut even tighter, letting out a soft groan. But he was in pain, which meant he was alive. His eyes shot open. Bright needed to be alive too. JT couldn't survive while the kid died. That just wasn't an option.

He forced himself to straighten up and undid the seat belt. A quick check of his body revealed no major injuries, aside from feeling sore all over and the pounding in his head. The cockpit had fared much better than JT would have expected, but the smell of smoke in the air urged JT to get himself and Bright out as quickly as possible. He turned in his seat with a groan, the movement reminding him that plane crashes left one sore even without obvious injuries, and saw Bright still in the jump seat, just coming around himself.

Bright grimaced and let out a small whimper that broke JT's heart much more than it should have. There was a light trickle of blood pouring down the side of the kid's face from a cut at his hairline, and JT wouldn't have been surprised if Bright had some broken ribs, due to the way the side of the plane right next to Bright had caved slightly inwards and left broken, jagged pieces protruding. It had certainly caved in against the kid.

"You okay, dude?" JT asked him as he forced himself to stand. They still needed to get out of the plane. In movies, the plane usually exploded not long after a crash, and JT didn't know the science well enough to be sure that wouldn't happen.

Bright groaned, his eyes still shut tight, but nodded. He undid his own seatbelt and stood up with a gasp of pain, his hand immediately going to his side.

"Bright?" JT shot up, ignoring his own aching muscles, and stepped over the body of Stover to get to the kid. "You good?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Bright responded around another groan. He pulled his hand from his side, and sighed at the blood that covered it. The jagged edges of the most damaged side of the plane had caused more damage to Bright than JT had first thought. "I've had worse," Bright said, flashing a smile that JT knew was fake.

"We gotta go," JT reminded him as more smoke wafted through into the cockpit above their heads. The back of the plane was on fire. He took a light hold of the back of Bright's suit, just to steady him and make sure the kid didn't collapse or anything, and led him to the main emergency door. "This thing better open," JT muttered in reference to it. He took a quick glance behind him to make sure the kid was still standing, then turned his attention back to the door. JT took a firm grip of the handle, then pulled it down, and pushed on the door with a grunt. It gave way, but only slightly, as if something were blocking its path. "Can you see something in the way?" he asked Bright through heavy breaths as he continued to push.

Bright stood on his toes to get a good look out the window. JT didn't miss the kid's grimace or the way he gripped his ribs, but chose to ignore it until they were at least off the plane.

"Yeah, there's a downed tree, or something," Bright said, coming back down to rest flat on his feet. "Maybe just a big log."

"A big log?" JT parroted in disbelief. Bright just shrugged his shoulders and looked at him with helpless frustration. JT shook his head, then went back to pushing on the door. Bright joined him, pushing with all of his strength, despite the pain that JT could tell he was in.

A minute later, the door had opened slightly more due to their brute strength, but it wasn't going to be enough. The plane was quickly filling with smoke, and JT and Bright didn't have anywhere to go.

"I think I can slip through if you can hold it open long enough," Bright said, looking down at the small opening they had painstakingly created. JT glanced down at it. There was no way he himself would fit through, but maybe Bright could - if he did, JT would never make fun of him for being small ever again. "Then I can pull from the other side, or try to get the tree away," he continued.

"Alright bro, go for it," JT replied. He groaned against the door as he put all of his might into widening that tiny opening. The kid getting out through it and then being able to get the door open from the outside was JT's only chance at survival. This needed to work. At the very least, the kid needed to get out and get home. If something happened to Bright, JT didn't want to face Gil. He couldn't face the man if he let anything happen to his son.

"Just a little further," Bright grunted, pushing against the door as well until the gap was just a little wider.

JT kept pushing against the door as Bright began to force himself through the small opening. He was able to get just less than half his body through before it became clear that the door needed to open just a little bit more. They were both beginning to cough from smoke inhalation, but there was nothing they could use to breathe through. The kid kept trying to push himself through anyway, with a great deal of pain. JT could hear whimpers mixed in with Bright's groans of exertion. A quick glance showed the bloodstain on Bright's white shirt growing larger, but JT couldn't stop. The heat from the fire at the back of the plane was growing closer, and the smoke was beginning to impact his breathing. They didn't have much time.

"I'm almost there," Bright said, a hitch in his breath, his pain apparent as he tried to squeeze through a space too small for him whilst injured. Another small cry of pain, and Bright was gone. JT looked to the side, and saw only the gap. Only a few moments later, and the door was swinging open quickly enough that JT almost fell right out of the plane. He quickly regained his footing, then hopped to the ground a few feet below, thankful it wasn't a long fall. A few yards away lay a log, which JT assumed had previously been blocking the door from opening.

"And you moved that all by yourself?" JT curiously asked the smaller man with a smile. He knew the kid was a lot stronger than his small size would have people believe, but it was still a whole log.

Bright grinned. "It's really just simple physics, with where the log was stuck and the direction that force needed to be applied in order to move it," he said with a wave of a hand. The kid's other hand was held against his ribs, staunching the flow of blood.

"Let's get away in case that thing blows, then figure out what our next move is," JT suggested, then waited to start walking further into the trees until Bright did. The kid was more injured from the crash than JT was, so he needed to keep an eye on him.

He took a few deep breaths of the clean air he was breathing, grateful to clear the smoke from his lungs.

They'd crash landed in the middle of a forest. JT figured it was the dense foliage of the trees that had slowed the crash itself and saved them from certain death. He couldn't exactly get a good look at anything that would definitively tell him, but JT guessed they were in the upper Appalachians. That would seem most believable if the people who were after Bright had wanted to make it look like an accident. The Appalachians were at least sort of on their supposed flight plan.

JT turned his attention back to the target of the attack - at least, who they were assuming was the target. Bright was still holding a hand to his side, but the bloodstain didn't appear to have grown any larger since JT last saw it. Still, JT needed to see how bad it was, even if there wasn't anything he could do about it - he certainly couldn't do anything about his own concussion.

"We can stop here, at least for a bit," JT said. He took another quick look around, making sure that they truly were alone, then sat down on a fallen log. He gave the log a pat and gestured for Bright to join him. The kid nodded and slowly trotted over to his side, sitting down with a wince. "How bad?" JT asked, despite knowing that Bright was going to lie to him.

"It's nothing, I'm fine," he immediately replied. JT nodded. At least he'd been right.

"Then you won't have any problem showin' me what's causin' all that blood, then, will ya?" he confirmed.

Bright opened his mouth to answer, then sighed instead, seemingly realizing the pointlessness of putting up any more of a fight on the issue when it was clear that JT wasn't going to let it go. The kid rolled his eyes and nodded, the little drama queen he was.

"Fine," he muttered, sounding like a teenager who didn't want to clean his room. JT had perfected the same syllable himself at that age.

Gritting his teeth, Bright straightened up and began to undo the buttons of his torn dress shirt, exposing his pale skin. He pulled his hand away and the fabric aside, showing JT the gash that ran along his ribs.

"It's really not that bad, I swear," Bright said, almost pleading. It sounded like he was scared that JT wouldn't believe him, that if it actually was bad, JT would be mad at him. JT knew that the kid was pretty messed up in the head from all the trauma he'd been through, but he still didn't understand all of his idiosyncrasies or why he did certain things. He insisted that he didn't want to understand, but if JT were being honest with himself, he wanted to know much more than he led on. Somehow, the kid he had once found obnoxious was worming his way into JT's heart. Soon enough, JT was going to be just as much a victim to Bright's charm as the rest of the team was. If Dani ever found out, JT would be doomed.

"It doesn't look like it's bleeding anymore," JT admitted. "But we don't know how long we're gonna be out here. We should find some way to wrap it."

Bright gave him a look filled with doubt. "With what? It's not exactly small, or in an easy place to wrap," he said with a shake of his head.

JT sighed. The kid was right. The gash was pretty much directly along his ribs, traveling diagonally across his side. It wasn't very long, but it was long enough that the only way to wrap it would be to wrap something around Bright's entire torso. It just wasn't going to work.

"What about your head?" Bright asked, ducking his head a bit to catch JT's gaze. "I know you've got a concussion."

"What about yours?" JT defensively fired back. "You're the one with the blood." He gestured to his own hairline, pointing out that he didn't have a bleeding wound there, while Bright did.

"Oh, so I have to be forthcoming with my injuries, but you get to pretend that yours don't exist?" Bright shot back, actually looking a little bit angry. Of course, Bright being angry at JT was like a puppy being angry at a bear. He just couldn't take it seriously. Still, the kid's claim was fair enough.

"There's nothin' we can do about it here," JT admitted. "Besides, I got worse concussions in high school playing football. I'll be fine." He gestured again to the dried blood along the side of the kid's face.

"This isn't even a concussion," Bright replied with a noncommittal shake of his head. "It's shallow. Head wounds just bleed a lot."

JT looked over it as much as he could without physically searching through Bright's hair - something Gil would've done, but JT wasn't there yet - and decided that it had stopped bleeding, and thus there was nothing else they could do about it.

The next matter of business was getting out of the situation they'd found themselves in. There was no telling where they were, and it could be a while yet before anyone realized they were missing. At least, Gil hadn't instructed JT to check in at all, but perhaps he'd told Bright to. The kid was a son to the man, after all, so he'd probably want to know that his boy made it to DC safely.

"You tell Gil you were gonna check in with him once we landed?" JT asked.

"Not specifically, but I always do," Bright said. "If I don't, he'll call me a few hours later, and when I don't respond, he's going to know that something's wrong," Bright assured him. JT didn't bother pointing out just how much of a dad the man was. This time, he was especially grateful for it. Those fatherly instincts that Gil had for Bright would likely be what would save their lives. Staying alive long enough for Gil to know that something was wrong was one thing. Staying alive long enough for help to actually reach them was another thing entirely. JT would do everything in his power to get the two of them out of it themselves, but there was only so much they could do when all they had at their disposal were two dying phones that didn't have any signal, no reference for where they were, a single handgun, and the clothes on their backs.

"Sun won't set for another six hours at least," JT pointed out. "But this deep in the forest, it'll get dark faster, especially with those clouds. We gotta use as much of this daylight as we can." He pushed himself up and off the log they were sitting on, and a wave of dizziness hit him like a left tackle, with a moment of nausea as an added bonus. JT groaned and put a hand back on the long to steady himself.

"JT?" Bright called out as he quickly stood and reached out to steady the man.

"Stop touchin' me, I'm fine," JT insisted with a wave of his hand. Bright obediently drew back, his eyebrows drawn together in a mixture of hurt and concern. JT sighed. He hadn't meant to hurt the kid, especially when Bright had truly been only trying to help. "I'm okay," he repeated, ducking his head to catch Bright's gaze. He offered the kid an apologetic smile and moved away from the log once more, the wave of dizziness passed. "We gotta get movin'."

"Which way?" Bright asked, gesturing around them with an air of hopelessness. The kid was scared, and he had every right to be. When the bad guys came looking to see if the job was done, they'd be looking to that spot, so JT and Bright had to get away. They had to run, but run where? There was no telling which direction would take them deeper into the forest, and which would lead them to civilization. They were surrounded by 365 degrees of an impossible choice. "Can you even tell which way is east with all of this tree cover?"

"I can make an educated guess." JT stepped back and looked up, ignoring another wave of dizziness. He took in everything he could, and made a guess. That was all he could do. He pointed towards the direction he hoped was east, and the two started walking. East was towards the sea - assuming they were still on the east side of the Appalachians, since JT just couldn't imagine the opposite possibly being true - meaning towards civilization. "Your dad took you camping, right? Can't you make a guess?" he asked, not expecting a real answer.

"Yeah, uh, that's not exactly the kind of thing we did on that camping trip," Bright muttered in reply.

JT cringed, his imagination running wild with all of the terrible things that could have gone down on that trip. He had so many questions concerning it, and about Bright's childhood in general, both pre and post the kid's father getting arrested, but he refrained from asking a single one. Not only did JT want to avoid anything that could be conceivably seen as a bonding moment, he was also afraid of the answers he could receive. They could be so disturbing that JT would feel sick, cause him to feel more empathetic towards Bright than he wanted to, or be so normal that JT would only be left with more questions.

Still, part of JT, like a persistent nudge at his side, told him that he shouldn't just remain silent and let the kid think about that traumatic trip, which he was undoubtedly doing. With a roll of his eyes at his own conscience, JT cleared his throat to speak.

"I could teach you," he said, although it came out as somewhat of a grumble. JT heard Bright stop behind him.

"What?" the kid asked, as though stunned that JT would even suggest that.

"Yeah, I know all this survival stuff, and clearly you need to know it," he said, gesturing around to their current situation as he continued to walk. The crackle of leaves behind him informed JT that Bright was once again following. JT slowed down, just a bit, to give the kid a chance to catch up. They couldn't afford to even risk getting separated. "So I may as well," he finished. JT shrugged, as if his suggestion had been simply a casual thing, to lighten any emotion that may have crept in.

"Will what you know help us stay dry when the sky opens up?" Bright asked him, a sense of foreboding in his voice.

JT glanced up at the clouds and grimaced, both at their dark gray color and the way everything spun just a bit when he moved too quickly. The storm was coming, and by the looks of it, they didn't have much time.

"Clouds that dark, this much humidity in the air..." he trailed off for a moment as he realized that magnitude of the oncoming storm. "What I learned in Afghanistan won't help us much," he admitted. They needed to find some form of shelter, and quick. "We gotta keep going," he said, picking up the pace a bit. It would be just their luck to have to deal with a serious thunderstorm on top of everything else.

But without bad luck, Bright wouldn't have any luck at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter is okay. I like it, but it's kind of wild, and it's also on the shorter side. Like there's angst and humor and action and a bit of whump, so like, I hope it doesn't feel too discombobulated and disconnected. Idk. I hope you enjoy it!

Out of all the things Malcolm regretted, ever engaging with any other living being throughout his life was close to the top of the list. If he had never gotten anyone else involved in his life, then at least he would be the only one to suffer. As it was, JT had to suffer in the forest in the middle of nowhere because he had the misfortune of knowing Malcolm. Everyone he met was worse off for knowing him. Even if they got out of their current situation, how could Malcolm ever make it up to JT? Just by getting the hell out of the man's life? What else was there that would actually ensure that JT never had to suffer because of Malcolm again?

Malcolm shivered as the breeze turned cold. It had been a hot day, but a cold front was fast approaching. If they didn't find shelter soon, they were going to get soaked. But aside from the trees, there really wasn't much of anything they could use. Malcolm didn't have any knowledge of wilderness survival, and JT had admitted that his knowledge was much more suited to the desert, not the forest. They were going to be in trouble.

"If we're near mountains, then there should be some caves around here, or something, right?" Malcolm asked. He really didn't know, he was just tossing out any ideas he had.

"Maybe," JT said in reply from up ahead. "But if we're heading towards the sea, towards civilization, then we're heading away from the mountains."

"And away from caves," Malcolm muttered, finishing JT's thought. It made sense, but it didn't help them in their immediate predicament of needing shelter for the fast approaching stormy night.

They kept walking for another few minutes, in as straight a line as they could manage while concussed and hurting, in silence. They weren't speaking, the birds weren't chirping, and the breeze had all but stopped. That was the most unsettling part. The air that had turned cold was once again humid, hanging around them thick like the chloroform soaked rag that Dr. Whitly had used to drug his son. Malcolm shivered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

A flash of light and a loud crash split the encroaching darkness. Malcolm froze, the hair at the back of his neck standing on end.

"Dude, get over here," JT called out to him from his place several yards away. His eyes were stern and his face was set. Malcolm quickly walked over to him as more thunder rumbled over their heads. "You stay right with me, okay? We don't split up," the man said with a single shake of his head.

"Yeah, of course," Malcolm replied. It seemed a little odd that JT was so insistent about something that should've been the expectation, but he wouldn't push it. It wasn't as if they had been truly split up at all, only slightly apart. But JT didn't seem to want even that anymore.

Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and the resounding boom was accompanied by the first drops of rain. Malcolm could hear them beginning to hit the tops of the trees, and knew it was only a matter of time before he and JT were both soaked. On instinct, he reached out for JT's sleeve.

"Come on," he said, pulling JT towards a group of trees all together. That was the extent of his knowledge on what to do in their situation.

"On the ground, come on, kid," JT said. He crouched down and even pulled Malcolm close to him. The two were shoulder to shoulder, as small and protected and they could possibly be. "We'll be fine," he added. Malcolm wasn't sure if JT was talking to him, or to himself.

A few minutes later, Malcolm could feel JT shivering next to him. The rain wasn't thick enough yet to do more than graze them, and the temperature was still far hotter than Malcolm was comfortable with, and yet JT shivered - with every clap of thunder.

A few minutes after that, the rain fell in earnest. Thick, heavy drops fell from the sky and made their way through the tree cover, falling onto Malcolm and JT and chilling them quickly. Malcolm started to shiver as the rain soaked through his suit. The rain mixed with the blood on his shirt, turning it all a shade a pink and running down towards his waistline. Shivers were soon wracking his thin frame, and his teeth began to chatter. Malcolm's hair was plastered to his forehead, the water cutting through it and trailing down the back of his neck. As he shook, JT wrapped his arm around Malcolm's shoulders and pulled him even closer. As he held Malcolm close, JT's shivers lessened and lessened, until finally, he wasn't shivering at all. Malcolm was even warmer, but shivers still wracked his body. But JT helped.

"It'll end soon enough," JT said, almost directly into Malcolm's ear in order to not shout. Malcolm just nodded, but he wasn't sure if JT could tell it was a nod and not just another shiver. His teeth were chattering too much for him to speak. Once again, he was jealous of JT's height and muscle mass. It was much harder for JT to get as freezing cold as Malcolm was, and it was totally unfair.

Malcolm wasn't sure how long they huddled together in a futile attempt to stay dry. Lightning ravaged the forest, taking down trees that couldn't have been all that far away. The slope they were on prevented a flash flood, but everything was soaked down to the bone and roots regardless.

Finally, the rain began to abate, and each crash of thunder sounded a little further away. Soon after, JT slowly stood with a groan, leaning heavily against the tree. He clutched his head with one hand, his eyes squeezed shut tight.

"Y-you okay?" Malcolm asked, teeth still chattering. Things were slowly improving.

"Yeah, yeah," JT replied with a wave of his hand. It had to be the concussion, but, like JT had said before, there was nothing they could do about it in the wilderness. He took another deep breath, then nodded slowly once more. "I'm good."

Malcolm stood up, hoping that getting moving again would help to warm him up. He ran a hand through his drenched locks, smoothing them back and away from his eyes. More water ran down from them, sending another chill down his spine.

"We gotta cover some more ground before it gets dark again," JT said, looking back up at the sky. He was right. Now that the storm had passed, the sky was brighter, but that would only last so long. They needed to find a relatively safe place to stay to wait out the night.

"Maybe we'll find a cabin, or something," he hopefully suggested.

"Wouldn't that be ironic," JT muttered as they started moving again.

Malcolm's loafers squelched with each step, sinking into the mud more and more, making disgusting noises each time. If they got out of this, the shoes were definitely going to be a casualty. At least they weren't his favorites.

The ground, once uneven, but now downright treacherous, made Malcolm's steps awkward and gait irregular. That pulled at the gash at his ribs, making the pain that had dulled away and numbed during the storm once again stabbing and white hot. He breathed through it, and forced himself not to slow down, despite the pain and exhaustion coursing through his body. All he wanted was a hot shower and his warm bed, night terrors be damned. As it was, all he could do to distract himself from it all was start a meaningless conversation. He was fairly good at those - at least, with JT, he had a plethora of ideas.

"Justin Travis?" he asked, a smile forming on his face before JT even stopped in his tracks.

JT sighed, shook his head, then kept on walking. "Nope," he said.

"Hmmmm. Juan... Tulio?" Malcolm guessed. He had endless options. He could play that game all day.

"I don't think that's even a name," JT said.

"But you didn't say it wasn't your name," Malcolm pointed out, even physically pointing, despite the fact that JT was in front of him, and thus didn't see it.

"Dude, Juan Tulio is not my name," he replied, but Malcolm could tell by his tone of voice that he wasn't as annoyed as he was pretending to be.

"John Travolta?"

"What? No, my parents did not name me after John Travolta, who the hell would-."

"John Tolkien?"

"I've never even read Lord of the Rings."

"James Tiberius?"

"I've always been more of a Star Wars fan."

Malcolm caught up to JT's side a bit, and could tell that the man was trying - and failing - desperately not to smile.

"Justin Timberlake?" he asked, barely able to keep himself from laughing. JT just sighed. "Justin Trudeau?"

"No, Bright, stop," JT said, his voice low. JT stopped and held a hand out in front of Malcolm, but he couldn't resist posing one more possible - well, not probable - name.

"Jarmel Tarmel?" he asked with a smile.

"Boy, what?" JT whisper-shouted. "Do you think there is any possible way that my name is Jarmel Tarmel Tarmel?" Malcolm just smiled. "No. And I told you to stop because I don't know if you've noticed, but-." He broke off and pointed through the trees that Malcolm realized they were actually concealed behind. "-there's a cabin right there."

Malcolm's eyes widened. He looked away from JT - who didn't actually look mad at all, when Malcolm thought about it - and through the trees. Sure enough, there was a cabin in a small clearing, with a large black SUV parked out front. It could have just been the cabin of a family who owned a luxury vehicle, but with Malcolm's luck, it was probably the Albanians. But were there actually any people inside?

"I'm gonna get a closer look," Malcolm whispered, then began to scurry away from JT.

"Wait, no," JT protested, trying to grab on to Malcolm's sleeve, but Malcolm was able to move just out of the way. "Damnit, kid," he muttered.

Malcolm kept moving further down the hill towards the treeline. He still couldn't see anyone moving inside the cabin.

"Bright!" he heard JT whisper-shout behind him. The man was a bit closer, clearly slowly making his own way down towards the clearing. Malcolm waved a hand behind him in dismissal. He could do this. JT was a detective and well versed in similar situations, but Malcolm had dealt with the mafia more, and if one of them was going to possibly get captured, Malcolm wanted it to be himself. Besides, he was a lot smaller than JT, and thus more able to stay hidden as the trees grew more and more sparse.

Slowly, he leaned around his current hiding tree, and spent a moment looking through the windows. Still no movement. Bracing himself, Malcolm carefully jogged up to the side of the cabin, grimacing at the pain in his side. He could see JT glaring at him from the trees. Malcolm just shrugged, and looked through the window from his place right next to it.

Damnit. There was someone in there. But he looked asleep, lying on a cot directly under the window. Malcolm looked back to JT, pointed inside, then mimed sleeping. JT nodded, and was beginning to take a step closer to Malcolm when his eyes widened. He drew his gun and immediately fired at something off to Malcolm's right.

"Run!" JT shouted at him, all pretense of staying hidden gone. Malcolm looked to where JT had shot, and saw an older blond man, dressed in all black, dead on the ground. There was an AK-47 by the dead man's side. Malcolm went to reach for it, and was greeted by the butt of a gun swinging towards his face before he could grab it. He ducked just in time, the rush of adrenaline covering up the pain in his side. From his lower position, Malcolm dove for the man's legs, taking him to the ground hard. He immediately began hitting the man, knowing that he only had a limited amount of time to render him unconscious before the significantly larger man got the upper hand. The third quick strike to the temple was enough, and the man stopped moving.

Malcolm could hear more shooting on, as well as shouts of pain. He could only hope that JT was winning.

He turned around again to grab for the AK-47, but wasn't fast enough to duck from the second stock swinging towards him.

Malcolm fell hard. Stars exploded behind his eyes, drowning everything in a bright white light. He needed to get up. He needed to grab the gun and get himself and JT out of there. But he couldn't stand. He couldn't move. He couldn't even see.

But he was moving - or, rather, something or someone was moving him, pulling him up from under his arms and dragging him somewhere none too gently.

"J-JT..." he muttered, but that couldn't be right. JT didn't exactly like Malcolm, but there was no way he would be so uncaring when manhandling him. It had to be the Albanians.

Malcolm forced himself to open his eyes and act. He began fighting against whoever was holding him, digging his heels into the ground in an attempt to gain enough traction to stand. The arms against him tightened, keeping him against another body, and unable to get free. He couldn't see JT anywhere, but he saw two more bodies on the ground, and one other man aside from the one who was dragging him into the cabin. Cabins had really never been good to him.

But he and JT hadn't seen anyone as they approached. How had they so suddenly been so outnumbered and overwhelmed? And where was JT now?

Malcolm stopped trying to fight as the man dragging him tossed him to the hard floor. He was smart enough to know that he wasn't going to get away from two large men with large guns while bleeding from his side and head. It was time to talk his way out of it, or at least get as much information as he could.

"Hey guys," he said with a smile. That earned him an immediate kick in the ribs, right on the gash along his side. Malcolm was proud of himself for holding in his scream.

"Quiet," one of the men said. "Gjokaj," he addressed the other man, then said something in Albanian that Malcolm had no way of knowing. The other man walked away, and Malcolm was torn between wanting to know what the other man was doing, and keeping his focus on the man currently towering over him.

Malcolm straightened up as much as he could and carefully ran a hand through his still damp hair - his clothes weren't dry yet either. The gun didn't seem to have broken the skin, but Malcolm guessed he now had a concussion to rival JT's, and would have a hell of a bump for the next week or so.

"You, Mr. Bright, are supposed to be dead," the man over him said with a sardonic smile and a mocking point of his finger. His clothes and gun all spoke to the Albanian mafia.

"Well, you're not exactly the first person who's tried to have me killed. It's harder than it looks," Malcolm said.

"Truly a shame, my boy," the man said. Malcolm grimaced at the phrase, but hid it well. "Because when we're done with you, you're going to wish you died in that crash." The man stood up straighter from his place of hovering over Malcolm, and looked to his side. The other man - Gjokaj - was coming back into the cabin through the back door.

"Today was supposed to be easy," Gjokaj said. "It was relaxing, after the storm. Some of us were sleeping, other reading. Mob guys like peace and quiet too, you know. But then you and your friend had to survive and come snooping, and now, no one will ever find you."

Malcolm looked at what Gjokaj was carrying. The duct tape was pretty normal for any torture session, something that Malcolm was very used to. The brass knuckles were pretty standard too. He hadn't been at the mercy of them in a long time, but it had happened before.

The power drill, however, was very new.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not always proud of every chapter, but this one, I am suuuuuper proud of. I hope you guys love it as much as I do lol

Gil turned to the clock for what must have been at least the fifteenth time in the last several hours. The afternoon was about to become the evening, and Malcolm still hadn't checked in. His flight should have landed several hours prior, and getting off the jet and to the hotel wouldn't have taken that long since they were landing at a private airstrip. There was no reason for Malcolm to not have let Gil know that he and JT arrived okay. Gil glanced down at his phone again. He hadn't missed any calls or texts, and his own that he sent to Malcolm had gone unanswered. That just wasn't like Malcolm to ignore him for so long, especially when the kid wasn't in the city.

Back when Malcolm was still in the FBI, he rarely had let a text or call from Gil go ignored for more than fifteen minutes if he wasn't actively solving a murder. The distance between them had kept Gil eager to make sure that his kid was always okay, and made Malcolm eager to tell Gil all about the latest crazed axe murderer as soon as he could. Having Malcolm so far away hadn't been ideal, but the speed at which he always replied had been a godsend. It had been the same way when Malcolm was growing up. Whenever the kid went out of the city for anything longer than a few hours, he would always let Gil know that he was okay. It was habit for them both, and there was no reason for that not to continue now that the kid was once again living in the city.

Taking deep breath, Gil relaxed back into his chair. Malcolm was a fully grown man now. He could take care of himself. He didn't need Gil checking in on him every couple of hours when he was out of town. And yet, Gil still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something always seem to be wrong when it came to his kid.

Besides, JT wasn't responding either, and that certainly wasn't like the man. Having been in the military, he took chain of command and those in authority very seriously. He would never ignore Gil like Malcolm might if he were feeling particularly moody.

Gil pushed himself up from his desk and made the short trip to Dani's desk. She was packing her things, preparing to leave for the day. The day had been spent doing paperwork, with no new cases coming in that required the major crimes unit instead of any other detective. Despite how boring paperwork was, it was nice to be able to leave at a decent time every once in a while. Gil hoped that he wasn't about to ruin that.

"Have you heard from Bright or JT today?" he asked her, crossing his arms and leaning back against an unoccupied desk. Perhaps there was just something wrong with his phone, and they had reached out to Dani when he hadn't responded.

Dani shook her head, shattering Gil's hopes. "Nope, last I heard from either one of them was last night. Doesn't Bright always tell you when he lands?" she asked him.

"Usually, yeah," Gil muttered in response.

"But not this time?" she confirmed. Gil shook his head. "You didn't get into a fight with him or anything like that? And JT hasn't responded either?" Gil shook his head again.

"Neither one of them are answering. Bright always texts me when he lands, lets me know that he's safe." He sighed. He knew that it was a bit over the top, perhaps even unhealthy as a father figure to be so wrapped up in all the things that could wrong with Malcolm, but that kid just had a penchant for getting himself into trouble. It wasn't as if Gil's concerns were unfounded. There hadn't been a single time that Gil was so sure that something was wrong and it had turned out to be fine. Of course, there was always a first time, but Gil had a lot of intuition, both as a detective and as a parent, when it came to Malcolm - and in all ways that mattered, Gil was that kid's parent.

"You think something's wrong," Dani stated, lowering her bag back to the ground and relaxing into her chair once more. Regretfully, Gil nodded. "Okay, I'll call their hotel and see if they checked in," she said.

"It could be nothing, you don't have to stay," Gil assured her, feeling guilty about keeping her in on one of the rare nights they finished early.

"It's Bright and JT, of course I have to stay." She turned away from him and towards her phone, pulling up their hotel information.

"I'll call the landing strip," Gil said. He was going to owe Dani big time, no matter what turned out to be going on. Whatever happened, Gil was never going to take her for granted.

He moved back to his office, but left the door open this time. He scrolled back through his earlier text messages with Malcolm from the night the kid had first brought up the idea of going to the conference during one of his sleepless nights, and found exactly where the kid said he would be flying into and out of, and where he would be staying. Gil could hear Dani on the phone with the hotel already, so he didn't need to tell her where they were supposed to stay. The phone rang for a few moments before a female voice answered it and gave him a polite greeting.

"This is Lieutenant Arroyo of the NYPD. I need to inquire as to the status of flight..." he trailed off for a moment as he glanced down at where he had written the flight number, then rattled it back to her. "I have two men on board that flight, and they've missed their check ins." That was close enough to the truth, and Gil figured the woman wasn't going to question him on it.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't have that flight listed as arriving today. It was cancelled last night by the pilot," she said.

Gil held in his shock and apprehension. "Could you give me that pilot's contact information please?" he asked her.

"Of course. That would be Captain Reynolds." She rattled off the man's phone number. Gil thanked her and hung up.

"Damn it," Gil muttered as he leaned back in his chair. Dani rushed into the office, concern written all over her face. "Let me guess," Gil said. "They never checked in." Dani shook her head. "Their flight was cancelled last night by the pilot, but I know Bright and JT left this morning. The pilot is our next stop."

A few minutes later, Gil had an address and he and Dani were on their way to surprise him. If he was involved with something nefarious, they didn't want to tip him off with a phone call. The man, Captain Reynolds, lived near the Jersey border, in a nice suburban area. The hedges were trimmed, the lawns were immaculate, and the houses were modest but well kept. It looked like the perfect place to raise a family.

The sun was setting. Most families would be eating dinner at that time, but Gil was about to interrupt whatever was going on in the Reynolds household. He went straight up to the front door, Dani right on his heels, and gave the door several firm knocks. Gil refrained from announcing that they were police. If something bad was going on in the house, he would rather wait to tell them who he was until the door was already open. There was movement inside the house, but not raised voices or screaming of any kind.

A man opened the door with a smile on his face. Captain Reynolds looked to be both in good health and spirits.

"Hi, can I help you?" the pilot asked.

"I'm Lieutenant Arroyo with the NYPD. This is Detective Powell. We need to speak with you about the flight you were supposed to take this morning," Gil answered as he and Dani flashed their badges. The man blanched, his eyes widening slightly and mouth falling open. "May we come in?" Gil asked, but his tone left no room for negotiation.

"Can you guarantee protection for my family?" Reynolds asked in a whisper. The man glanced around outside, as if he were afraid of being watched.

"Of course," Dani immediately replied, but the pit in Gil's stomach was growing. He knew something was wrong, but with every bit of information he gleaned, it all just kept getting worse.

Reynolds motioned towards the house interior with a quick jerk of his head. Gil and Dani stepped inside, then Reynolds closed the door and its three locks, one of which was a door chain that looked to be newly installed.

"Honey, who is it?" a female voice called from the other side of the house. When Reynolds didn't respond, the woman entered the living room, a toddler in tow.

"Darla, this is Lieutenant Arroyo and Detective Powell. They're with the NYPD," Reynolds answered. He took a deep breath before continuing. "There's some things we need to talk about." Darla's eyes went wide with fury.

"What did you do?" she asked him with faux politeness, glancing down at the small child still holding on to her. The little girl was silent, looking between Gil and Dani.

"Do you want me to take her in the other room?" Dani asked. After a moment, Darla nodded. Dani crouched down to be level with the girl. "Hey, my name's Dani. What's your name?"

"Janie," the toddler replied before sticking her thumb back in her mouth.

"You have a beautiful name, Janie. Do you wanna go play with me?" The girl nodded. "Great! Let's go." Dani took a gentle hold on Janie's hand and led her into the other room, sending Gil a serious look over her shoulder. Once they were out of sight, Darla turned her attention back to her husband.

"What the hell did you do?" she seethed.

"How about you just start from the beginning, Captain Reynolds," Gil suggested. The man nodded, and took another deep breath.

"I was supposed to fly Mr. Bright down to DC today-."

"You said that he canceled," Darla interjected.

"Well..." he trailed off for a moment before continuing. "I got an email yesterday, from an address I didn't recognize. It told me to tell Mr. Bright I couldn't fly him but to recommend Captain Stover in my place, of else they would kill my family." Darla gasped, but Reynolds continued. "They sent pictures of Darla at work, of her picking Janie up from daycare. They told me that if I ever contacted the police, they would know, that's why you have to protect us, you can't let them hurt my family," he insisted.

"You'll be placed in protective custody, I promise," Gil said, trying to force down his fear that was threatening to come out as fury. It wasn't this man's fault that this had happened. Anyone would do the same to save their family. If someone had come to Gil one day with pictures of Malcolm at home or at school or at Quantico, Gil would do anything they said to keep him safe. He couldn't fault another father for doing the same thing. He was just furious that that meant that Malcolm had to be the one to pay the price. "I'll need to see those emails," he said, getting himself back on track. No matter what, he would save Malcolm, and JT. That wasn't even a question.

"Yes, of course," Reynolds replied, immediately pulling out his phone. "They told me to delete the email, but on TV they always say that nothing is ever really deleted." He gave a slight smile and handed his phone over.

"That's one thing the shows get right," Gil responded, attempting to mirror the man's grin. He wondered if it looked as forced as it felt. "You realize you won't be getting this back for a few days?" he confirmed. Reynolds nodded. "Thank you."

Dani walked back in with Janie, whose smile was so bright and pure that Gil couldn't help but give a real smile in return.

"You should get some bags together," Dani said. "We'll take you to the precinct, then you'll be taken to a safehouse."

Both Dani and Gil were assuming a lot, and really shouldn't have been promising anything, since there was no actual case opened into Malcolm and JT's disappearance. But they were the chief major crimes unit, and thus could almost always get anything they needed.

The drive back to the precinct was filled with questions from the Reynolds family that Gil wasn't sure he could even answer. Everything was up in the air, still. He had no way of knowing how long they would have to stay in the safe house, who had contacted the pilot, or what they wanted with Malcolm. It was all Gil could do to stay calm and professional. Luckily for him, Dani was one of the greatest human beings he'd ever met, and excellently steered conversation back to Janie and how adorable she was every time that Gil almost snapped. It was truly amazing how easy it was to put everyone back at ease when talking about the precious little girl.

After handing the family off to some other officers to deal with, and giving the cell phone to TARU, Gil and Dani retreated back to Gil's office for a breather.

"It's always something with him, isn't it?" Dani asked, referring to Malcolm, with a smile on her face that spoke much more of fear and stress than happiness.

"Oh yeah," Gil responded, taking a swig of a bottle of water. He tossed a second one to Dani. "Even when JT's with him it seems that kid still draws trouble like a magnet." He shook his head. "It could take TARU a little while to get those emails back. You should head home, get some rest while you can," he suggested.

"Will you be doing the same?" Dani asked him with a pointed look. "If you're staying, I'm staying. Bright and JT are just as much my family as they are yours. I'm not going home until we find them." She shrugged her shoulders and took of sip of her own water, in a move that very clearly communicated that she would not be swayed from her decision.

"I should tell his mother," Gil muttered. "And Tally, she should know too."

Dani nodded. "I'll call Tally if you call Mrs. Whitly," she said. That seemed fair enough. With a heavy sigh, Gil sat down at his desk. If it was anyone else, these types of notifications would be made in person, but Gil knew that both Jessica and Tally would rather have them stay at the precinct and keep working than spend the time driving to them to let them know in person. Dani excused herself to her own desk to make her call.

Missing persons notifications certainly weren't as bad as death notifications, but they definitely weren't easy either. And with Jessica, nothing was ever easy.

Gil picked up his phone and tapped on Jessica's contact. She answered after only a few rings.

"Gil, to what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked him, her voice full of life and laughter. Jessica was clearly in a very good mood. Gil hated to be the one to ruin it, but he didn't have a choice. She needed to know that Malcolm was missing once again.

"Hey, Jess," he greeted, his own voice grave. "I thought it best that you heard it from me. Malcolm's missing again."

"What? But he was going to that conference in DC. He was so excited about it, and Detective Tarmel was going with him, and-."

"I know, I know, but he never checked into his hotel, and his jet never even landed in DC. Captain Reynolds was blackmailed into recommending another pilot for the trip, and that's all we've got right now. TARU is getting us more information on the blackmailers as we speak. I promise you, Jess, I am going to find him. I swear to you." Gil was swearing it to himself just as much. He couldn't let anything happen to that kid. Malcolm was his whole world, the son he'd never had.

"I can't go through this again," Jessica replied. Gil could hear the sob she was holding back. "After Watkins, what that man did to him, I can't go through that again. I still hear how he screamed that night in the hospital every night when I sleep. I still see him shaking and terrified and Gil, I can't- I can't take any more of that. You have to get him back," she said, her voice breaking near the end.

Gil took a deep breath. He remembered that night in the hospital just as well as Jessica did. He hadn't left once Malcolm had been admitted. The kid had tried to say he was fine and didn't need anyone there, but his actions betrayed him. Whenever Gil so much as looked towards the door - usually to assess the hallway and whoever was coming and going to be sure there wasn't any possible threat - Malcolm tensed up, the fear that Gil was going to leave him written all over his face. The kid could say that he was fine and didn't need anyone to stay with him all he wanted, but Gil was always going to know the truth when it came to his own child.

But that also meant that Gil was subjected to the most horrific night terrors he'd ever seen, right along with the kid's mother. At first, Malcolm had vehemently resisted the restraints that he normally slept with even when he had to spend the night in the hospital for whatever reason. Of course, he'd said it was because he was much too exhausted to have any sort of dangerous night terror, but Gil knew the real reason. After being chained to the floor for an entire day, that cold metal tight on his wrists keeping him vulnerable, in a submissive position, Malcolm didn't want anything of the sort as long as he could get away with it, and Gil didn't blame him. So of course he didn't fight the kid on it.

Maybe he should have.

That night, Malcolm slept restlessly in the hospital bed while Jessica dozed in the recliner that had been brought in for her. She would move every hour or so to go back and forth between Malcolm in the ICU and Ainsley who was staying in a regular room. Ainsley would be discharged in the morning, but the hospital had wanted to keep her overnight for observation. Jessica spent a little bit more time with Ainsley, but only because Gil was always with Malcolm, so he would never be left alone, while Ainsley was alone when Jessica was with Malcolm. However, Jessica tried to only leave her daughter while Ainsley was being permitted to sleep.

Gil was the only one not getting any rest whatsoever. Jessica dozed - although Gil knew she would soon wake and go back to Ainsley's room to doze a little more - Ainsley was asleep in her own room, and even Malcolm slept fitfully. But Gil couldn't rest while it was so clear that Malcolm was already fighting demons in his own sleep. Gil needed to be ready the moment the kid woke up in a panic, as Gil knew he was going to do.

Sure enough, only a few minutes later, Malcolm's occasional soft whimpers turned into distinguishable words, chiefly "no", and "stop", along with a softly muttered "please". That was all Gil could take. He stood from his seat only a foot from the bed, and hovered over his kid.

"Malcolm, you're okay," he softly said, not wanting to wake Jessica if he didn't have to. She hadn't woken yet, her doze having fallen into a true sleep that she desperately needed. The woman was just as exhausted as the rest of them. "You're safe now," he said. Gil put a hand on the kid's shoulder, hoping to calm him down in his sleep, but it wasn't enough. Malcolm began to thrash in the bed. If he didn't stop, he would pull his fresh stitches, and banging his newly casted hand repeatedly on the bed railing couldn't be good for it either. "Malcolm," Gil repeated, a little louder, but to no avail.

"No! Stop!" Malcolm shouted in his sleep. His eyes darted open as he began to scream, a bloodcurdling sound filled with abject terror. Gil quickly grabbed onto the kid's forearms as tightly as he dared to keep Malcolm from hurting himself or anyone else as he continued to cry out.

"It's okay, you're alright, I'm right here," Gil said over his cries, but the kid didn't seem to recognize him. He continued to fight against Gil's grip as his eyes filled tears and his screams turned to sobs.

"Malcolm, darling," Jessica cried out, rushing over from her recliner. She put a hand on his shaking shoulder. At first, Malcolm flinched away, ducking his head and hiding his face from the two of them as he continued to weakly pull against Gil.

"It's me," Gil repeated, ducking his own head in an attempt to regain eye contact with his terrified kid. "It's Gil. I've got you, you're safe now. Your mother and I are here," he said, trying to keep the tears out of his own voice. Jessica had lost that battle, and was silently crying. Slowly, Malcolm's weak struggles stopped entirely.

"Gil? Mom?" His broken voice was barely more than a whisper, his tear and terror filled eyes darting between them. It was almost Gil's undoing. The kid always called Jessica "mother" when addressing her directly. He hadn't called her "mom" since before he was a teenager.

"Yeah, kiddo, it's me," Gil responded as the first tear fell down his own face.

"I'm right here, my love," Jessica affirmed.

Malcolm, still in Gil's now loose grip, collapsed into Gil's arms, his head falling onto Gil's shoulder and his fingers coming up to grip the man's shirt like a lifeline. He continued to sob, and allowed himself to be held by his parents. 

"I've got you," Gil said. "You're safe now. Everything is going to be okay." He brought one arm around the kid's shaking shoulders, and rest the other on his head, gently carding his fingers through Malcolm's hair. Jessica reached around to hug the kid as she continued to cry, muttering over and over again, "my baby."

That had been one of the top five worst nights of Gil's life. Malcolm had needed his stitches redone, having pulled out a few of them in the throes of his night terror. Jessica wasn't the only one who saw that in her sleep almost every night. It was certainly something that Gil would never forget.

"I'm going to get him back, I swear to you," Gil said to Jessica over the phone, forcing all memories of Malcolm's kidnapping and torture at the hands of Watkins from his mind. "He has JT with him this time, they're going to take care of each other. They'll be okay," he said, despite knowing that he could neither know that nor promise it. Regardless, it was all he could do. Dani rushed back into his office, her face stern with both determination and apprehension. She had a lead, and it scared her. "Jessica, I have to go-."

"I know, I know," she replied with a shuddering breath. "Find my baby."

"I will." Gil hung up before either one of them could say anything else. He wanted to ask Dani how Tally took the news, but a possible lead was more important. He looked at her expectantly.

"TARU got the emails back. It's the Albanian mafia," Dani said. "They're the ones who blackmailed Reynolds."

Gil sucked in a deep breath. It was a lead, but it wasn't good news. The Albanian mob was notorious for being exceedingly violent and wildly unpredictable. Not even the Polish mafia would work with them, and that mob would work with anyone. The Albanian mafia was clannish, secretive, hypersensitive to any kind of insult, and far too quick to use violence for the sake of vengeance. None of that bode well for Malcolm and JT, especially since Gil knew that Malcolm had dealt with them in his past with the FBI.

His face grew pale as he realized the implications of that. They were going to kill his kid. That's how this was going to end for the Albanians. They wanted Malcolm's death, and if they got the chance to torture the kid before they did it, Gil had every reason to believe they would. That's just how sadistic and cruel that mafia was. It wasn't as if they needed any type of intel from Malcolm. It would purely be for their own enjoyment. If Gil didn't find Malcolm quickly, his kid was going to suffer.

"We're gonna find them," Dani continued. "They're going to be fine. This isn't like last time. He's not alone, he has JT with him. No matter what happens, they're not alone," she said.

But she couldn't know that, not really. The Albanians wouldn't have any beef with JT, so at least his death would likely be quick and painless. There would be no such solace for Malcolm. They could have killed JT the moment they arrived at the airstrip. Maybe Malcolm was already dead too.

"Hey, stop it," Dani said, her voice sharp. "I know you're going through all of the possible worst case scenarios in your head, and you have to stop. We are going to find them. We're going to find out where the Albanians took them, and we're going to get them back."

Gil looked up at her. She was right. It was instinct to be panicked when Malcolm was in danger, but he could force that down. He needed to.

"Right," he muttered, taking another deep breath as he straightened up in his seat. "We'll start with getting any info from the undercovers in the city, then maybe set up a meet with a willing boss if we can find one. We'll go from there." He nodded as the panic fell away and a deadly calm replaced it. Gil's gaze fell on the framed picture of himself, Jackie, and Malcolm at the kid's graduation from Quantico. Malcolm beamed up at the photographer, his smile so wide and bright that Gil loved the kid and the name he picked even more. He was so proud of that kid. If anyone could survive being kidnapped by the Albanian mafia, it was Malcolm. And with JT at his side, Gil knew they were going to be okay.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is the shortest chapter so far, but if I didn't end it here, it would end up being the longest chapter ever because of what happens next (well technically what has already happened, but that'll make sense in the next chapter). I really wanted to get the next chapter out, so I didn't want to stick the two things in the same chapter. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!
> 
> Note that the warnings have gone up.

Malcolm was pretty sure that he was not going to be okay. He'd dealt with personal cases of near-torture before, but this would be the first true torture session that Malcolm had ever had to endure. Watkins was close, but did a single stab wound while chained to the floor count as torture? After all, Malcolm was the one who shattered his own hand, not Watkins. But, being tied down to a chair by duct tape, with two mafia men standing menacingly over him with brass knuckles and a power drill, gave Malcolm the distinct impression that he was in fact about to be tortured for real, which didn't necessarily make sense. As a general rule, the mob was cruel, but not sadistic. Most men in the mafia didn't get any sort of real pleasure from inflicting pain on others. Pain dealt was simply part of the business, nothing more and nothing less. So why torture him? The mafia had already tried to have him killed, so how did torture fit in after that? Was he just so unlucky to get stuck with the two members of the mob that just so happened to be sadists?

Except, these were the Albanians he was dealing with. They weren't just any other mafia. Malcolm knew, both from his FBI training and his personal experience with them, that the Albanians were quite prone to using violence for the sake of vengeance, and torture was all too often a part of that. He hadn't died in the plane crash, and now he and JT had killed more of their men - at least three more, but Malcolm couldn't be sure. That was reason enough for them to make his death as slow and painful as possible.

Despite his imminent torture, Malcolm's mind kept going back to JT. Where was he? Malcolm hadn't seen him since they got separated, and could only hope that the man was still alive and had gotten away. JT didn't deserve to suffer for Malcolm's past.

"So your plan is to, what? Kill me with brass knuckles and a power drill?" he guessed. It wasn't as if he could really get himself into a worse situation. They were already planning on making him suffer before killing him.

"Something like that," Gjokaj answered with a shrug, as casually as if they were discussing the weather. "Dedja is in contact with the boss to see what he'd like to be done with your body, but until then, we get to take vengeance for our brothers." He slipped the brass knuckles onto his hand and flexed his fingers.

"And your boss, who would that be? Nikollaj?" he asked, getting no reaction. "Dervishaj?" he tried. This time, Gjokaj halted his movements, and Dedja glared at him. Bingo. Malcolm would have guessed it was Dervishaj over Nikollaj anyway, having played a crucial part in taking down many of his lieutenants five years earlier. The man had been wanted for almost fifteen years, and always seemed to be one step ahead of law enforcement. He operated from the shadows, rarely being seen and even more rarely letting a lead on his location escape. Malcolm almost took him down in a raid, the closest anyone had been to catching him since he fled New Jersey. Dervishaj went back into hiding after that, but clearly he thought things had settled down enough for him to get his revenge, which definitely didn't bode well for Malcolm. "He's coming here?" he asked. If he could make it out alive, with a solid lead on Dervishaj, then maybe whatever torture he was about to endure would be worth it.

"I think that's enough questions from you," Dedja said, then nodded to Gjokaj, who took the first swing at Malcolm with the brass knuckles, catching him at the temple, right where the butt of a gun had earlier. From that single hit, Malcolm's vision went almost completely black, and he nearly passed out. As the hits continued to rain down, again, and again, and again, Malcolm wished that he had. The pain was nearly overwhelming as Gjokaj repeatedly struck him on the torso and the side of his head. Most of the hits were concentrated on the left side of his body, since Gjokaj was right handed, but that didn't stop each blow from making something so simple as breathing nearly impossible. Brass knuckles were designed to inflict maximum damage to the victim while protecting the perpetrator from major hand injury, and they were doing just that. Malcolm was able to keep his groans of pain to a minimum until Gjokaj got him right on the ribs, where he was already injured. He screamed as he felt his rib break, squeezing his eyes shut against his tears as the men began to laugh, a deep, low chuckle that sent shivers down his spine.

"Now that's more like it," Gjokaj said, stepping back and seemingly admiring his handiwork. Malcolm knew the cut on his hairline had been reopened, as well as the gash on his ribs. He was in too much to pain to feel blood running down anywhere else, but he would have guessed that those weren't the only bleeding wounds. Most of the hits were to his center of mass, with a few at his head - if he didn't have a concussion already, the brass knuckles had certainly changed that, possibly adding some skull fractures too. Gjokaj thrust his hand out and grabbed a fistful of Malcolm's hair, forcing his head up. Malcolm grit his teeth against the pain and glared up at the men. "Ready for a change of pace, boy?"

He knew what that meant. It would be the drill instead of the brass knuckles. No, Malcolm was absolutely not ready for that. He would do anything for that not to happen.

"I don't think you really care about my vote, but for what it's worth, I'd rather stick with the current method if it's all the same to you," he groaned out, trying to keep his voice strong despite the fear building in the pit of his stomach.

Gjokaj kept his grip with one hand still in Malcolm's hair, and brought his other hand up to the side of Malcolm's face. Malcolm's heart started beating even faster in panic as the man gently caressed him, running the backs of his fingers through the blood trailing down from his hairline. His hand went further down, to his bared and exposed neck, and that's where the faux gentleness stopped. Gjokaj gripped Malcolm's neck, quickly and suddenly cutting off his air, pushing his thumb and forefinger into either side of his neck with such force that Malcolm again wished for the bliss of unconsciousness. Malcolm started to struggle again, but to no avail. He was still tied down to the chair, and Gjokaj still had an unyielding grip on both his hair and neck. No words could escape his mouth, and no air could come in.

Finally, Gjokaj let go with another highly unsettling chuckle. Malcolm took a great heaving breath in, his head pounding from lack of oxygen in addition from all the hits he'd taken.

"You're right," Gjokaj said. "I don't care. Go ahead, Dedja."

The other man stepped forward with a smile on his face. He held up the drill and gave it a test, the noise piercing Malcolm's heart. Dedja took another step closer to him.

"How about you don't go ahead?" Malcolm suggested, his voice raspy from the abuse his throat had taken. He cringed back from the man, but tied down with duct tape, there was nowhere he could go. "You really, really don't need to go ahead." His voice was shaking, and his heart was beating out of his chest.

"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Bright," Dedja said. "You and your friend didn't die like you were supposed to, and then you had the audacity to kill my friends. And that's all on top of what you did to Dervishaj. That's not something that can be so easily forgiven." He took one final step forward, and turned the drill on.

"Don't, don't, please," Malcolm rushed out, fear and pain winning out over his pride, but it didn't make a difference. Dedja took a grip on Malcolm's shoulder with one hand, holding him down even more as he continued to struggle and plead with the man, and drilled down into the fleshy part of Malcolm's shoulder with the other.

Malcolm screamed. Someone was literally drilling a hole into his body with a power tool, and he felt every single agonizing moment. Even after Dedja removed the drill, the pain didn't stop, not even for a moment. Malcolm knew he was crying, but all he could focus on was the pain. It was worse than getting stabbed, worse than shattering his own hand, worse than anything Malcolm had experienced.

"Oh, that's lovely," Dedja said. Malcolm could vaguely hear Gjokaj chuckling in agreement. "Let's have another one, shall we?" He put the bloody drill against Malcolm's thigh.

"No, don't, please," he begged, but Dedja didn't care. He turned it on again, driving it into the outside of Malcolm's leg, wringing another scream from his throat. Dedja held the drill in his leg longer than he had in his shoulder, long enough that Malcolm's scream collapsed into a drawn out sob. He let out a keening wail as Dedja pulled the drill out. "Please stop," Malcolm choked out through his tears.

"We'll stop eventually," Dedja replied with a shrug. "I'll drill into your brain and heart, and then, it'll be over." Part of Malcolm wished he would just do it already, if only to end the agony. The basement with Watkins seemed like a walk in the park compared to this.

Once again, Malcolm weakly struggled against his bonds as Dedja held the drill against his upper wrist. But Dedja just held it there, not turning it on, and watched Malcolm struggle.

Gjokaj chuckled. "You're really building up the suspense this time," he said, creeping in closer, watching Malcolm like he was a science experiment.

"Look at the fear in his eyes. The anticipation, the pain, the panic," Dedja went on. Malcolm closed his eyes and turned away. There wasn't much he could do to stand against them, but if they wanted to see the fear in his eyes, then they wouldn't get to see his eyes at all, no matter how much it worse it was to not see what was going on around him. The men laughed again as he squeezed his eyes shut, but with his fun over, there was nothing holding Dedja back from drilling into him yet again.

And drill into him again he did. Malcolm screamed again, the agony in his wrist demanding to be heard. The pain got impossibly worse as Dedja's drill hit Malcolm's radius, and just kept going, all the way through the bone and through his arm. Malcolm had never been shot, but it couldn't be worse than this. Even as Dedja kept the drill in his arm, Malcolm's scream once again broke off into a sob, his throat giving up. He sobbed as Dedja moved the drill back and forth, and finally took it out.

Why couldn't he pass out? Why wasn't his body giving in to the pain and dragging him into unconsciousness? Why did he have to stay awake and suffer through it all? Why wouldn't they just kill him already and make it end?

Malcolm fought to catch his breath as he sobbed. It just hurt so much, so much more than anything he'd ever experienced. He was supposed to be at a psychology conference in DC, with the greatest minds in the field, not tied to a chair in the middle of nowhere, being tortured for doing his job. If this was how his life was supposed to end, then Malcolm wished it would just end already. If he was never going to leave that cabin, never going to see his team and family ever again, then Malcolm wanted them to just kill him already. He hung his head as he finally got his breathing back under control. He never got to tell Gil what he meant to him, how much he loved the man as his dad. At least he would see Jackie again, hopefully. Whatever awaited him in the great beyond, it had to be better than his current situation.

"What do you say, Gjokaj? Should we start on the lobotomy?" Dedja said. Malcolm whimpered at the mere thought. He could only pray that the pain and blood loss would take him before they did anything else.

"I think the boy looks ready for it," Gjokaj responded. A hand was in his hair again, pulling his head up.

"Please don't," Malcolm muttered, his voice broken and raspy.

"Go get the camera," Dedja said. "We need proof of death for the boss."

Malcolm opened his eyes to see Gjokaj walking away, towards the other end of the cabin. Dedja still had a hand in his hair. That was the only thing keeping his head up. Every passing moment, Malcolm felt weaker and weaker. The constant pain and blood loss were taking their toll on his battered body.

Dedja rest the power drill against his temple, and Malcolm knew his time was coming to an end. There was nothing he could do. He let his tired eyes slip shut, and waited for the final stab of pain to send him into oblivion.

A deafening crash took oblivion away from him as the far end of the cabin collapsed. The final stab didn't come, and neither did unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's hard to believe, but there's actually even more whump coming up later lol. Mal's just really not having a good time lol


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when you think the whump is over, remember, the whump is never over :) There is something that I've begun in this chapter that is a change, and is symbolic of a change occurring throughout the fic. If you think you know what it is, let me know! And as always, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review :)

Going with Bright to a psychology conference was never something that JT had wanted to do, but he would take that any day over getting shot at by the Albanian mafia. Getting shot at wasn't new to him, but the Albanian mafia? That was a little out of his wheelhouse.

"Damnit, Bright," he muttered under his breath as he hid himself behind a tree. He only had the one mag for his Glock, and it was empty. Gunfire still rang out towards the cabin, but more sporadically. There was no way that the mob was out of ammunition, but they might have thought that JT was dead. One of their bullets had rung true, taking him to the ground for a moment before he was able to get behind the tree.

JT glanced down at his bleeding shoulder. His adrenaline was going to keep the pain at bay for a few minutes, but soon enough it was going to hurt like a bitch. It was a through and through, not touching the bone, but that didn't mean JT wasn't concerned. It took time for infection to set in, but JT had no way of knowing when he was going to see a hospital again. Bright certainly needed it too.

The gunfire stopped. Voices spoke in a language that JT didn't speak, loud and angry and emotional, maybe even grieving. Carefully, JT peered out from behind the tree, and saw one of the remaining men dragging a struggling Bright into the cabin, while the other checked all of the bodies on the ground, finding each of them unresponsive. JT never enjoyed taking a life, but he was glad to see that it was down to only two men.

The man dragging Bright shouted something to his friend, causing the other man to abandon the bodies and follow him into the cabin. The door closed, and JT couldn't see what was going on through the window. He knew they weren't going to immediately kill the kid, because if that was their plan, they would have killed him outside. That was all that JT knew. He didn't know enough about the Albanian mafia to guess anything else.

JT relaxed against the tree once more. He needed to find a way to at least try to stop the bleeding, then he could find a way to get Bright and get them both out of the mess they'd gotten into. JT turned to his shoulder and sighed. He really liked that shirt. With a cringe, JT took a firm grip of the fabric, and began to tear the arm of his shirt off. Once it was torn off, JT wrapped it around his bleeding shoulder, using his teeth to hold the other end, and tied it as tightly as he could. That would have to do. There weren't exactly many other options, at least not when Bright was in imminent danger.

And there weren't many options for him to get Bright out of there, either. JT could hear voices from inside the cabin, but he couldn't make out what they were saying, despite the shattered windows. Taking a deep breath, JT forced himself to move. His head was pounding in time with the throbbing of his shoulder, but it didn't matter. He had to get to Bright. As carefully as he could, JT crept down the incline and towards the cabin, making sure to stay as out of sight as he could. He needed to know what exactly he was dealing with if he were to have any shot at getting Bright out of there in one piece.

The closer JT got, the more he could hear coming from inside the cabin. Bright was towards the end furthest from the door, and at least one of the men was near him. He could hear the kid groaning in pain, but he tried to put it out of his mind. JT headed for the closest body, intending on grabbing the fallen man's gun, but as he rifled through the man's pockets for a mag, he found something even better: keys to the SUV.

A bone chilling scream filled with unbelievable pain and agony dropped JT's heart into his stomach. What were they doing to Bright? Was JT going to be too late? His entire being was tuned in to what was going on inside that cabin. He could hear the kid crying and begging, and it took Bright screaming a second time to spur JT into action once more. Grabbing the keys and the empty AK-47, he raced towards the SUV and quickly hopped in. A quick glance at the backseat proved that it truly was empty, as was his habit to check. With a quick breath to calm his nerves, JT put the keys into the ignition, and moved the car into reverse. He backed up until the distance looked far enough, then put the SUV in drive.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered, then floored it, driving the car straight into the cabin with a deafening crash and a nauseating thump as the SUV made contact with a human body. Moving the deployed airbags out of the way as quickly as he could, JT got out of the car and rushed towards the shocked man holding a bloody power drill - which was the clear cause of Bright's heartbreaking screams. JT must have looked like something out of a horror movie, with blood streaming from his now broken nose and even more blood coating his arm and shoulder from where he'd been shot.

The man took a frightened step back as JT ran towards him, still clearly in shock. JT would take full advantage of that. He brought the butt of the AK-47 down on the man's arm as he lifted it up in defense, making him drop the drill with a shout of pain. JT bashed the rifle back up and into the man's chin, dropping him to the ground. JT dropped to his knees next to him, and bashed the man's head in, again, and again, and again, and someone was shouting in rage and maybe that was JT. He didn't stop until the man's head was a bloody pulp and soft whimpers from next to him brought him back to the present.

"J-JT?" Malcolm quietly called out.

JT finally fell back from his assault. The man was dead, had clearly been dead for the last several bashes. JT had killed him. He'd made the man completely unrecognizable. There would be no open casket for him, thanks to JT. He let out a stuttering breath at the realization of what he'd done, leaning back on his feet.

"JT?" Malcolm repeated. JT's attention shot over to his friend, taking in Bright's tear stained and bloody face and the various wounds peppering his small frame. He glanced back over at the bloody drill, his stomach dropping once again at the knowledge that that terrible tool had been used to torture the kid. JT grabbed his knife from his pocket and began to saw away at the duct tape, careful to avoid touching the bloody mess that was the kid's arm.

"Yeah, I'm right here," he muttered. "I've got you now." The words flowed naturally from JT's mouth, which surprised him more than anything. He was saying what Gil would've been saying in that situation, and he didn't even have to think about it.

"Your shoulder," Bright said, his voice filled with pain.

"Don't worry about it," JT insisted. "I'm fine." He was most definitely not fine. His shoulder throbbed and the room was spinning, but he couldn't worry about that. The kid was in much worse shape, and taking care of him was all that mattered. He finished getting the duct tape off the poor kid's wrists and ankles, then stepped back to take a good look at his injuries. Malcolm was bruised and battered, clearly having sustained one hell of a beating. There was blood still sluggishly pouring out of the reopened gash across his hairline, and several gashes where it looked like rings had broken the skin.

But JT hadn't seen either mafia man wearing rings. He glanced over at the other body, and noticed the bloody brass knuckles still on his hand. JT focused on breathing evenly, despite the rage still boiling in his gut.

He turned back to Bright. Those wounds weren't even the most concerning ones. The holes in his shoulder, upper wrist, and thigh were definitely the ones that he needed to be worried about. That poor kid. JT should've been faster, he should've ignored his own shoulder and gotten to Bright before these horrors were done to him.

JT looped the kid's good arm around his shoulders, biting down on the pain that it caused his own GSW. Luckily, the man had attacked the kid's left arm and shoulder, but his right leg, making it easier for JT to be an effective crutch.

"I'm gonna lift you up on three, alright?" he asked. Malcolm just nodded, taking a deep breath. "One, two, three," he said, lifting the kid up and forcing himself to ignore the whimpers that the movement elicited from the poor kid. Slowly, JT brought the two of them past the totaled SUV and the two dead men, and carefully maneuvered them through the wreckage of the cabin wall and out into the sunlight. The ground was still muddy from the earlier downpour, hindering their progress as it clung to their feet. "We'll follow this road, and we'll find some help, okay?"

"We can't stay on the road," Bright groaned out. "There's more coming."

JT slowly brought them to a stop. "What do you mean there's more coming? More men from the mafia are on their way?"

"Plaurent Dervishaj, they all but said he was coming, or at least one of his top lieutenants," Bright said. The kid took a shuddering breath before continuing, his voice sounding a little stronger despite the subject matter. "Gjokaj was getting a camera, to take a picture after they killed me. Dervishaj liked things like that, pictures of his victims taken during and right after death. They were going to take a picture of me to add to his collection."

JT fought against the urge to vomit at the thought of a man having a scrapbook of dead people, people he'd ordered killed. Knowing that the kid had almost been a part of that disgusting tradition only fueled his rage. Still, he focused his energy on the present.

"And if he's coming towards the cabin..."

"We can't stay on the road," Malcolm finished for him. JT nodded, then slowly began to move himself and Bright to the side, back towards the treeline. The mud was turning every step they took into a beacon shining down on their location, but there wasn't anything JT could do to cover their tracks. The horrific storm had also made the incline much more difficult to traverse going up than it was going down. JT held on to Bright as tightly as he could with one arm, and used the other to help pull them both back up the incline and into the trees. He had to ignore every whimper of pain that the kid let out, and tried his best to make his own pained groans sound like they were coming from exertion and frustration rather than the agony in his shoulder, nose, and head. JT doubted that Bright was buying it, but neither one of them said anything. At least he was able to keep himself from hurling the meager contents of his stomach all over the grass. Each step made his head pound even more, and he doubted that Bright was feeling much better.

JT brought them both to a stop once they finally crested the incline and were back among the trees. He gently lowered the kid to lean against a log, out of sight from the road.

"We gotta bandage some of these," he said, gesturing towards the still sluggishly bleeding wounds caused by the power drill. How anyone could be so cruel, JT didn't know. "Which one is the worst?" he gently asked, taking a knee in front of the kid.

"Arm," Bright muttered. "It went all the way through, through the bone too. The other two didn't touch bone, or go all the way through at least." Despite the kid's word's, JT didn't doubt that the other two were any less agonizing. "Just wrap it, don't worry about stabilizing the bone."

"You sure?" JT asked. "I'm not exactly MacGyver but I'm sure I could come up with something." He'd done enough field medicine to know how to pack wounds and stabilize bones without any real medical equipment. There had to be something they could use to keep Malcolm's wrist from becoming even more fractured.

"We can't take the time," Bright said. "We'll only have light for another hour, then we're wandering in the dark. I'd rather get as far as we can while we can. That's more important."

JT sighed. He couldn't exactly argue with the kid when he was right. The light was limited, and would be gone in about an hour. He and Bright needed to get much farther from the cabin in order to be safe for the night. If Dervishaj really was going to the cabin, then when he arrived to find all of his men dead, he would begin searching immediately. The mafia had every advantage over them. JT and Malcolm needed to get as far away from the cabin as they could while there was still light to do it. As much as he hated it, he needed to just stop the bleeding as best he could, and forgo stabilizing the bone.

"Okay, but you gotta let me wrap them," he insisted. Bright nodded, and used his good hand to pull weakly at his tie. The kid was exhausted. "Let me help you," JT softly said, lightly pulling Bright's hand away and undoing the knot of his tie himself. Once he had the tie off, he took as gentle a hold of Bright's injured wrist as he could, and began to wrap the tie around it. The kid's eyes were shut tight against the pain, which JT did his best to ignore as he carefully wrapped the long tie around around the wound, even looping it around his hand to stabilize his wrist in the only way that he could. JT had never much been one for ties himself, and forgot how long the things actually were. He was thankful for that.

Once Malcolm's wrist was wrapped, it was time to move on to his shoulder and thigh. The kid's suit was already destroyed, but JT didn't want to tear it up more than it already was. Unless a miracle happened, they would be spending the night in the woods, and JT knew it was going to get cold. Having the suit jacket in one piece - more or less - would help the kid to stay warm. It would have to be the dress shirt that got sacrificed for the sake of stopping the bleeding. The thing was thin anyway, and wouldn't do quite as much when it came to keeping Malcolm warm as the thicker suit jacket would - for all the good it had done him during the rainstorm, admittedly.

"Alright, bro, I'm gonna have to tear your shirt up," JT said.

"It's already destroyed," Bright replied, beginning to pull his suit jacket sleeve up with his good hand to expose the dress shirt underneath. JT helped him to take off the jacket on the other side, making it easier to tear the sleeves. Soon enough, the shirt was well and truly destroyed beyond repair, and looked completely ridiculous. JT couldn't help but let out a chuckle under his breath. "What's so funny?" Bright asked, but he was smiling too.

"It's a good thing you have that jacket, because damn, the torn off sleeves look does not work for you," JT said, letting himself smile even more.

"Oh, because you're really rocking the one sleeve look yourself," Malcolm replied around a chuckle. "If Tally saw you right now, I don't know if she'd be able to contain herself."

JT's smile slowly fell at the thought of his beautiful wife and unborn child. He would give anything to be back with them, to hold his wife tight and ensure that he was there for the birth of his baby. But then again, maybe he wouldn't give anything. He had had the opportunity earlier to leave Bright for dead and drive away in that SUV, but it hadn't even crossed his mind to leave the kid. Still, he felt a physical pang in his heart at the idea of never seeing his beautiful Tally again. He loved her so much. When he got back to her - because it was when, not if - he was going to show her just how much she meant to him, just how much he was never going to take her for granted again and how he loved her with all of his heart.

"I'm sorry I got you into this," Bright muttered, his eyes downcast. "You should be home with her right now, not stuck out here with me."

"Hey, no," JT said, stopping him. He continued gently wrapping the fabric around the kid's leg, as tightly as he dared. "This isn't on you. If we got attacked by drug dealers that I got put away, would say it was my fault? No, you wouldn't," JT said before Bright even had the chance to respond. "So this isn't on you either. You did your job, you helped take down the Albanian mafia, you almost got their head guy. That's something to be proud of. What the mafia does is on them, not you." He moved on with the remaining fabric to the kid's shoulder, wrapping it around both the shoulder itself and up around the opposite side of Malcolm's neck to hold it in place. "Just don't make any jokes about us having matching scars, alright? I don't do matching," he said, only half joking.

Bright smiled. "That's the least I could do," he said. "Thank you for this, by the way."

"What, like you could've done it yourself?" JT pointed out, but gave the kid a smile nonetheless. He was done with emotions for a while. Seeing that his work was done, and Bright was as mended as he was going to be before they got to a hospital, JT stood up and held his hand out to the kid. "We gotta get moving," he said. Malcolm took his hand allowed JT to help him up. JT looped Malcolm's good arm around his neck, and turned himself back into a crutch. They moved a bit further into the forest, just to be sure that they were out of view from the road, but could still see it. Following the road was their only chance at getting back to civilization.

They made their way sluggishly, like the slowest three-legged race in existence. Both of them were too exhausted to keep up any attempt at conversation. That could be saved for when it became too dark to continue on. The effects of hunger and thirst were beginning to make themselves known without anything to distract from them. All in all, it was a pretty miserable time.

They couldn't have been walking for even ten minutes before they saw lights on the road. JT pulled them behind a tree as well as he could, just to be sure that they truly were out of sight. Both he and Malcolm peered around the tree to look down the road, seeing a black SUV, much the same as the one that JT had crashed.

"Dervishaj," Bright muttered. They didn't have long now until the man would be combing the forest in search of who killed his men. Their time was running out. Logic dictated that a mafia boss would have brought men with him, but they had no way of knowing how many. They could have been dealing with only three men looking for them, or up to seven. At the pace that JT and Bright were going, those men were going to catch up with them. It wasn't as if it would be difficult for the men to figure out which direction they went, with their footprints engraved in the mud. JT cursed the earlier thunderstorm once again.

"Come on, we gotta keep moving," JT said once the SUV had passed them. With slightly renewed vigor, he and Bright kept on their way, moving as quickly as they could without risking further injury. It was getting too dark to clearly see the ground, but they managed to avoid too many serious stumbles over the various fallen branches exposed rocks as they continued to make their way through the forest, hoping every second to catch a glimpse of civilization ahead.

They had been walking for about twenty more minutes in relative silence when JT heard it: the light clink of something hitting metal, the sickening crunch of metal crushing bone, and Malcolm's bloodcurdling scream.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. I had a deadline that I really need set everything else aside to focus on, but I'm back now :) As always, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!

Gil fought to keep himself from fidgeting. He was usually the definition of calm, cool, and collected, but this time, his fear for his kid was overriding his training and police instincts.

"It'll work, he'll talk," Dani muttered to him. "He wouldn't have agreed to meet with us if he didn't plan on cooperating."

Gil slowly exhaled, but nodded. She was right. He was letting his nerves get the better of him. That was why in literally any other situation, Gil wouldn't have been allowed to work the case. It was too personal. Already there were higher ups that were trying to convince him to stand down and let someone else take over the case, but Gil wouldn't hear it. This was his kid and he wasn't about to be sidelined while others looked for him.

Dani leaned back in the bench, forcing herself into a more relaxed position that Gil then mirrored. She was holding up a lot better than he was, for the most part - he didn't comment on the time that she had left the bathroom with a single tear stain on her face that she had missed.

The park was busy. There were people with kids everywhere, running around and playing. A couple of dogs played frisbee with their owners. Gil remembered Malcolm begging him to get a dog, since Jessica would never allow it, but Gil's landlord hadn't allowed it either. To compensate, they would go to dog parks together and people would always let Malcolm play with their dogs. The kid would smile so wide as he pet them, and laugh when they licked his face. Jessica hated how he would get dog slobber stains on his clothes, but she knew how much the kid loved it, so she was willing to let it slide as long as no dogs actually came into her home. Gil still thought Malcolm needed a dog, but the kid wasn't exactly in the best place to be able to take care of one.

Gil came back to the present as he heard the creak of someone sitting on the opposite side of the bench, their back to Gil and Dani. A barely discernible glance proved it to be their guy: an Albanian mafia lieutenant, the only one willing to work with cops.

"Lieutenant Arroyo, Detective Powell," the man greeted with a thick Albanian accent. "What do you need from us today?" None of them turned to look at each other, continuing to all stare straight ahead.

"We need information on a hit put out on Malcolm Bright, ex-FBI," Gil said, his voice strong and steady despite the fear hammering away in his heart.

The man scoffed. "That one's been giving the boss some trouble, I can tell you that," he said. "Apparently the boy is putting up much more of a fight than they planned for." Gil couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. His kid was a fighter, able to duke it out with the best of them, no matter how much of a disadvantage he was at - and he was frequently at a disadvantage, usually being smaller than their suspects or his assailants. "Before they even got confirmation whether or not Mr. Bright survived the crash, they found the boy and his friend outside the cabin. The men haven't checked in since, so I would assume it didn't go according to plan."

"And what would 'according to plan' be?" Dani asked.

"The boy's death. They should have sent visual confirmation to the boss by now and they have not," the Albanian replied with a shrug.

"Where is this cabin?" Gil asked, that being the most important question. The kid seemed to get in trouble with cabins on a frequent basis. When it was all over, Gil was going to have to take Malcolm to a nice cabin by a lake to offset it all. Maybe he'd take the whole team, teach them all how to fish like his dad had taught him. They were certainly going to need some time off.

"What does the life of one ex-FBI agent matter to the NYPD? Who is he to you, lieutenant?"

"Everything," Gil responded without hesitation. "Now tell me where that cabin is." He fought to keep his voice steady. He needed to be diplomatic, lest the Albanian decide that helping the NYPD out wasn't worth it. "Remember, you'll get to cash in this favor at a later date."

The Albanian sighed, then nodded, and rattled off a string of coordinates that Gil immediately committed to memory. "This one may cost you, lieutenant, but good luck finding your boy." Gil felt the weight on the benches shift as the man stood and walked away without another word.

Gil's leg began to bounce with nerves as he and Dani waited another few minutes before leaving. The conversation that was had there needed to be kept secret.

Finally, Gil decided that two minutes were long enough to not seem suspicious, and stood to leave, with Dani following suit. They made it back to the precinct in record time, with both of them too high strung to speak on the drive back. If the Albanian had been lying to them, then JT and Malcolm were as good as dead. If that happened, Gil would hunt the man down and kill him, no matter how much valid intel he'd provided over the years. He couldn't afford to be wrong this time.

They remained silent as they made their way back into the squad room. Quiet still followed them as they slipped into Gil's office and he plugged in the coordinates. He let out a sigh of relief as a cabin appeared on the screen, just as the Albanian had said. It was in the Appalachians, a little ways off from the flight path they would've been on had Malcolm and JT actually been flying to DC.

"I'll get us a plane, you get us a SWAT team," Gil said. "Let's bring our boys home." He was picking up his phone to make some calls before he even finished speaking. Dani nodded and left. He knew she would secure them the best SWAT team that the NYPD had to offer. The woman was an incredible force of nature when she was passionate about something. It was for that very reason that Gil pulled her onto the major crimes unit.

It was longer than Gil would've liked - well, anything longer than immediately was longer than Gil liked when it was his kid in danger - but an hour later, he and Dani and a full SWAT team were loaded up and on their way down to the cabin. As it turned out, piling up favors with the higher ups paid off. A local SWAT team was already on their way to storm the cabin, and would be reporting back to Gil on his sat phone. Really, he and Dani and their SWAT team were only backup. As much as Gil hated that, if it meant that his kid and JT got out of there sooner, then it was worth it. Still, Gil stared down at his sat phone, anxious for it to light up, hoping beyond hope that the message would be that Malcolm and JT had been safely recovered.

"They're gonna be fine," Dani said from her spot next to him on the military plane they'd borrowed. "This is Bright and JT, they're two of the toughest guys I've ever met. Bright is too stubborn to die, and JT is too protective to let him. They'll be fine," she insisted, but Gil could see the doubt warring with that certainty in her eyes.

"That kid just can't stay out of trouble, can he?" Gil said with a sardonic smile. Of course, out of anyone who could've pissed off the Albanian mafia, it was Malcolm. "Even as a teenager, there was always something, and it usually wasn't even his fault." He shook his head. This wasn't the kid's fault either. Fate just seemed to have it out for him.

"But you raised him well," Dani said. She bumped his shoulder with her own and gave him a small smile. "He's strong and brave and completely selfless. That's all because of you."

Gil wasn't so sure he agreed, but he wouldn't argue it. He went back to staring at the sat phone. The local SWAT team should have been breaching the cabin that very moment.

"JT is the best of the best, you know that," Dani continued. "That's why you brought him to major crimes. That's why you made him go with Bright in the first place. No matter what happens, JT is not going to stop trying to keep him safe, and Bright won't let anything happen to JT either. They're just too stubborn." That brought a smile out of Gil. He couldn't disagree with that one. The whole major crimes unit was known for their tenacity, often to the chagrin of others. "They're going to protect each other," she repeated.

Gil nodded. She was definitely right on that note. As much as JT pretended to not care about the kid, Gil knew the man would die to protect Malcolm, and Malcolm would sacrifice himself for JT in a heartbeat. He just hoped that the mafia didn't realize that.

A few minutes later, the sat phone buzzed with a short buzz. Gil answered immediately.

"What've you got?" he asked, getting straight to it.

"The cabin's destroyed, a car went straight through it. There's a lot of bodies, but they're all Albanians. No sign of your boys," the man on the other said. Gil felt pride swelling in his chest. Of course they'd fought back. JT was a brick wall who wouldn't be taken down without a fight, and Malcolm, despite his size, was one of the best fighters that Gil had ever met and was a wildcat to wrestle. They'd managed to take down all of the Albanians they'd come across, it seemed. Maybe they really were okay. "There's no tire tracks leaving, either west or east," the man continued. "But there are two sets of footprints heading east, and some blood. We're gonna start following them, but we're expecting to run into more hostiles. We'll keep you updated on our position. But it's important you know that it appears as though someone was tortured here. We need to be realistic about the condition your boys may be in when we find them."

"Thank you, captain," Gil replied with a terse nod, then the line went dead. Short of finding and rescuing them, that was the best news that he could've hoped for. He just had to focus on the positives, not the stake through his chest at the thought of his kid or JT being tortured. Gil couldn't take that again. Memories of the kid after Watkins still played on repeat in Gil's head all too often, and he knew that time still haunted Malcolm too. The boy had suffered so much in his life, so much more than most people ever did. He'd had enough trauma for several lifetimes. He really didn't need any more.

"I told you they'd fight hard," Dani commented with a small smile, bumping his shoulder. "They don't know how to give up. They didn't find their bodies, and there were two sets of footprints leaving, so they're okay." Gil nodded again. She had to be right. He didn't know what he would do if they weren't okay.

They landed at the airstrip shortly after, and it was then that the sat phone buzzed again. This time, it read the brief message, "encountered hostiles, exchanging fire." That sent Gil's heartbeat racing. As much as he believed in the determination and sheer stubbornness of JT and Malcolm, he wasn't naïve enough to believe that the Albanian mafia was going to give them up without a fight. It was probably a fight to see who would find them first, and Gil needed to make sure that he won.

He remained silent as they piled into the the van, weapons making them ready for war. Gil glanced at Dani next to him. She was jittery, her added nerves likely due to the similarity between the current situation and her attempt to rescue Malcolm from Watkins at the cabin, before realizing that he wasn't even there. He put his hand on her bouncing knee.

"We're gonna find them," he said, tossing her own words back at her with a sad smile. She smiled and nodded.

"I know we will," she said, sounding much more confident than Gil knew she felt. Her gave her knee another gentle squeeze before leaning back in his seat and taking a deep breath.

It wasn't the first time that Malcolm had been lost somewhere, needing Gil to come find him. Usually, the kid was only lost in his own head, but there had been a time when Malcolm had needed Gil to physically come rescue him.

When he was about fourteen, the kid had been on the bus after a particularly rough day at school, and was so lost in his head that he didn't realize he'd missed his stop until it was far too late, and he was very far from home. He'd gotten off then, but, not knowing the area, he'd ended up wandering into a really bad part of town. He called Gil.

"I don't- I don't know where I am," he said, his voice shaking. It drove daggers into Gil's heart.

"Do you know which borough you're in? Can you see any street signs near you?" he asked him, already rushing to his car, barely taking the time to tell Jackie what was going on.

Malcolm rattled off the names of two streets. "I'm in the Bronx, I think," he said. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he didn't want anyone to hear him talking. Gil immediately began searching the map he kept in his car for those streets. "I'm in an alley. I don't want anyone to see me."

Gil couldn't have agreed more. A preppy rich kid in a high crime area? Malcolm was practically begging to be attacked. Gil didn't blame the boy for sounding scared.

"I'm on my way, I'm coming right to you, okay? Just stay out of sight, and stay on the phone. I'll be right there," Gil said, trying not to let the fear slink into his own voice. If something happened to that kid because Gil couldn't get there in time, he would never forgive himself. "You don't have to say anything, just stay on the line," he said. Gil didn't want Malcolm to make any noise if it might draw attention to him, but he needed the line to be kept open, just in case something did happen.

A few minutes later, Malcolm spoke again, his voice small and scared. "Gil, they saw me, they're coming towards me, I don't know what to do, Gil, where are you?" he rushed out. Gil's heart dropped into his stomach.

"I'm almost there, kid, just another minute," he said, pushing down more on the gas.

"I don't know if I have that," Malcolm muttered. Gil heard shouting, but he couldn't make out any of the words. "I don't want any trouble," Malcolm said, his voice steady and strong despite the fear that Gil knew he felt. There were more muffled words, and Gil still couldn't make them out.

"Hang on, kid," Gil said, but Malcolm didn't respond to him.

"My dad's a cop, and he's on his way here right now, so I really think you should leave me alone," Malcolm said. Gil was too busy focusing on the faint tremor in his kid's voice to process that Malcolm had called him his dad.

He heard the distinct thud of a fist hitting flesh, followed by a sound that Gil knew far more intimately than he wanted to: Malcolm's cry of pain.

"Leave him alone!" he shouted, but the only answer he got was the clatter of the cell phone hitting the ground. Gil turned the corner as quickly as he could and began scanning each alley as he passed them. He slammed on the breaks at the third alley. About halfway down, there was a group of three guys, about college age, all standing over a figure on the ground. It had to be Malcolm. Gil bolted out of the car, barely taking the time to even turn it off, and drew his weapon. His badge was on full display. "NYPD! Let him go!" he shouted as he ran down the alley. The boys all cursed and bolted down the alley in the opposite direction. Gil let them run. He'd call it in later, but he knew the chances of an arrest were slim to none. As much as he wanted to give chase and put the men who hurt his kid behind bars, staying with said kid and making sure he was okay was always going to be more important.

Gil holstered his gun and dropped to his knees next to Malcolm, who was still curled up in a fetal position, doing what he could to cover his head with his arms. His expensive shoes were gone, and there was no sign of the phone that had dropped to the ground. Gil could make a good guess that the kid's wallet would be gone too.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here now," he gently said, resting his hand as softly as he could on Malcolm's shoulder. He couldn't tell if the kid flinched with how much he was already shaking, but, Malcolm slowly brought his arms down. "Are you okay? Do I need to call a bus?" he asked. Predictably, Malcolm immediately shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said, slowly sitting up and leaning against the alley's brick wall, exposing most of his injuries to Gil. He had what was going to be a truly impressive shiner, and a gash above his upper lip that looked particularly deep. Maybe Gil did need to call an ambulance, especially since he didn't know what the kid's clothes were covering. Based on the dirty boot prints on his torso, Gil knew that Malcolm's ribs were likely heavily bruised.

"You sure?" Gil asked him as he began to run his fingers through the kid's hair, checking for head wounds. Surprisingly, Malcolm let him.

"Yeah, you're here now," he said. Malcolm wasn't shaking anymore. "I'll be okay."

Satisfied that Malcolm had been spared a head wound, Gil held his hand out to help Malcolm to stand. "We need to stop that bleeding or else you'll need stitches," he warned, reaching for Malcolm's tie. The kid got the idea and started to hold it up to the gash with a wince.

"Mom is gonna be pissed that I ruined my clothes and scarred by face," he muttered, eyes downcast. Gil carefully led him back to the car, ready to catch the kid should he suddenly pass out.

"I think she'll be glad that you're okay more than anything," Gil insisted. The kid and his mother didn't have the best relationship as of late, leading to Malcolm spending more and more time with the Arroyos, but Gil knew that Jessica loved her children more than anything, she just didn't always show it. "I know I am," he added. He'd almost been too late. Those thugs could have crushed Malcolm's ribs or skull and killed him, all because Gil didn't get there in time. That gash on the kid's upper lip had scarred, reminding Gil every time he saw it that he had almost been too late. It had been way too close of a call.

It was that day that Gil kept thinking of as he and Dani and their SWAT team made it to the remains of the cabin, as their SWAT team went to assist the local one in the firefight, as he and Dani slipped away into the woods to follow those bloody footprints as best they could in the dark of night, as Gil froze when he heard the sound of someone softly crying.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really proud of this chapter, tbh. It was super fun to write, and it's definitely the most emotional I've ever gotten while writing lol (no, I didn't cry, but I felt like maybe I was starting to kinda get sorta close XD). Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!

Malcolm knew nothing but pain as he fell to the ground, screaming. Strong hands were quickly holding him down as he writhed and continued to scream. Maybe JT was crying out his name, but Malcolm couldn't hear him over his own cries. He kept thrashing against the arms that wrapped around his chest from behind, holding him down.

"Get it off!" he screamed, but JT just kept trying to hold him still. The man wasn't moving to get whatever was biting into his ankle, sawing through the bone and lighting it on fire, off him. Why wasn't JT helping him? "Please, get it off, get it off, please!" he begged as he continued to writhe. One wrong move had him screaming in agony again. A sudden pressure over his mouth silenced him.

"Shhhhh," JT gently hushed, his body now contorted to keep Malcolm still and silent. "I'm so sorry, kid, but we've gotta be quiet, okay? We can't let them hear us," he said. Malcolm could hear the tears in the man's voice, now that his own screams were muffled by JT's hand.

After an eternity, Malcolm's screams turned into sobs. His throat ached too much to keep screaming. The abuse it had suffered during his torture, compounded with the agony of his ankle, had been more than his throat could take. His adrenaline induced writhing and thrashing ended, leaving only excruciating pain in its wake. JT's hand remained over Malcolm's mouth as he continued to sob. It hurt so much.

"It's okay," JT practically whispered in his ear. Finally, he removed his hand from over Malcolm's mouth and began carding his fingers through Malcolm's hair. "I've got you, you're gonna be okay." He continued gently hushing him and whispering the same things that Gil would be telling him. Malcolm missed Gil so much. He was never going to see Gil again. He was going to die out there.

"Get it off, please get it off," he begged, his throat aching as he did so. Malcolm had both of his arms wrapped around JT's larger one that was still wrapped around his chest. He was squeezing maybe a little more than he should have been, but JT was the only comfort and safety he had.

JT held him a little bit tighter. "No," he said, but that one word was filled with so much sorrow and regret and pain that Malcolm wondered if maybe JT was hurt too. "It's a bear trap, kid," he continued. "I can't undo it with only my hands."

Malcolm let out another sob at the thought of leaving the bear trap on his ankle, and JT only continued carding his fingers through his hair and gently hushing him. He was going to die out there. JT was going to sit with him as he died. Malcolm kept his leg as stock still as he could, any motions causing more waves of agony to shoot up his leg as they radiated from his ankle. He swore he could feel each and every individual tooth of the trap digging into his bones.

"You should go," Malcolm said between sobs, but even as he said it, he gripped JT's arm around his chest even tighter, and leaned his head into the man's chest even more.

"I'm not leaving you, kid," JT replied. Since when did JT call him 'kid'? A far corner of Malcolm's mind was captivated by the change, by the way that JT seemed to be emulating Gil in almost every way, but that corner was swallowed up by the neverending pain. "We're in this together, no matter what. I'm not gonna leave you here alone. I'm gonna bring you home, one way or another."

Malcolm's pain addled mind didn't even know what that meant, but he was too scared and hurting to challenge it. He was also too tired. That was a bad thing. He needed to stay awake if he wanted any shot at surviving.

But what if he didn't want a shot at surviving? It hurt so much, he was in so much pain, that maybe it would be better to just drift away into nothingness and never wake up. As scared as he was, Malcolm would do anything to make the pain just go away, even for a moment. His shoulder and ribs and thigh and wrist hadn't forgotten the treatment that they'd received, despite the consistent white hot pain in his ankle that demanded his full attention. Malcolm just wanted it to go away. If that meant he had to die, maybe that was the best thing. Besides, he was just so tired. His head was resting right above JT's heart, the steady beat providing almost a sort of white noise to lull him to sleep.

A serious pops in the distance took a little bit of Malcolm's attention, but he didn't move his head to look. That would hurt.

"Do you hear the fireworks, JT?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. "I love fireworks, watching them over the bay with Gil and Jackie. I miss them so much," he said around an oncoming sob. "I wanna go home. I just wanna go home." Malcolm squeezed JT's arm as it squeezed him.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear 'em," JT responded, his voice tight, as if he were fighting tears himself. Maybe he was. "And we're gonna go home. I'm gonna get you home, okay? I'm gonna light your way there. We're both gonna go home." JT was definitely crying as he just continued to card his fingers through Malcolm's hair, the motion soothing and protective.

"I always wondered what it would be like to have a brother," Malcolm said a minute later. His voice was as weak as his body. "Thanks for showing me, JT."

"No, no, not yet," JT quickly replied, his voice suddenly frantic, panicked even. "Don't check out on me now, kid, not yet." Malcolm could hear the tears his voice. "I haven't even told you my real name yet."

"Then tell me," Malcolm whispered. His eyes were slipping shut. He heard a sob, but this time it didn't come from him. As the darkness fell upon him, the last thing his ears heard was a gentle whisper in his ear: the whisper of a name.

...

JT fought against his gasping breaths of air as the body in his arms went limp. The shaky hands wrapped around his arm lost their grip, and the head pressed against his chest lolled to the side. JT stopped his ministrations of running his fingers through the kid's hair and pressed his fingers instead to the kid's neck, searching for a pulse. He wept with relief as he found it. It wasn't as strong as JT wanted it to be, but it was still steady. He would take what he could get.

For once, JT was glad to be alone. He didn't cry. He never cried. And yet, there he was, holding Malcolm in his arms and sobbing. Fear wasn't something that JT was used to. Ever since Afghanistan, he didn't let it impact him the way it did others. And yet there he was, sitting with his back against a tree, with terror coursing through his veins. He was terrified that the faint rise and fall of Malcolm's chest would cease altogether. He was terrified that the mafia was going to catch up to them and he wouldn't be able to do anything to stop them from taking the kid from his arms. There was no good option, and that left JT terrified. He couldn't move, because he couldn't get the trap off Malcolm's ankle, and he was too weak to carry him at that point, but there was no way in hell that JT was going to leave him there to die alone. No matter what, JT was not going to let him die alone. But that meant that he just sat there, waiting for the mafia to catch up.

He was waiting for death. The mafia was going to find them and kill them, and all JT could do was wait. He would not let Malcolm die alone, even though it meant he would never see his beautiful Tally again or meet his precious unborn child. They would know that their husband and father died doing the right thing. He couldn't go back to them having failed Malcolm, no matter the cost.

"I've got you, kid," he muttered, glancing down at the mangled mess of Malcolm's ankle. His eyes were well adjusted to the lack of light, but even then, he could only make the shiny trap encircling the kid's ankle, and the blood covering the trap. It wasn't just the fact that JT wouldn't have been able to get the trap off with only his bare hands that he told Malcolm it couldn't come off. Malcolm had already lost so much blood. If there was one good thing the trap was doing, it was keeping more blood inside. Despite the damage it had done, it would be worse to try to take it out when there was nothing left for JT to use to wrap the wound with. If he took the trap off, Malcolm could bleed out. He'd already lost so much blood from his torture. He couldn't afford to lose any more.

The continuing gunfire gave JT the smallest breath of hope. If the mafia was in a firefight, there was a chance that their assailants were the good guys. JT didn't exactly know which good guys, but he would take any good guys at that point. He let out a shaky breath. Malcolm, in his agony, had thought it was fireworks. JT had known it wasn't worth it to tell him he was wrong. The kid had already been too far gone in the pain. Frankly, it was a miracle he hadn't passed out before then. Still, Malcolm was brilliant. Seeing him so far gone in his pain that he genuinely thought that gunfire was fireworks - which made absolutely no sense given their current situation - was heartbreaking. The last time JT had seen something like that was Afghanistan. That kid hadn't made it home, and JT was terrified that this kid wouldn't make it home either.

"I'm not leaving you," he whispered, even though Malcolm couldn't hear him. No matter what fate they were waiting for, JT was not going to leave him. Whatever the end was, they were going to face it together. In the face of death, JT would know that even though he hadn't been able to save Malcolm, he had done his duty as a brother and held on to him until their last breaths. JT was going to be with him through the end.

He looked down at the kid in his arms. Malcolm was still breathing, but he was just so pale and weak. He looked frail, even. That wasn't how Malcolm was supposed to look. The kid was always full of energy, bouncing around, almost hyperactive. It was wrong for him to be so still.

JT took in a shuddering breath as he went back to gently carding his fingers through the kid's hair. Maybe it would help him. Maybe it would help them both. JT was still crying softly, and he made no effort to stop.

The sound of breaking branches and crunching leaves stole JT's attention a few minutes later. He went silent and held his breath. Maybe it was just a nocturnal animal, but JT's instincts knew it had to be a person. JT covered Malcolm's body with his own as much as he could without jostling the poor kid too much - even though he was unconscious, JT didn't want to do anything that could cause him more pain. If the mafia wanted to take Malcolm from him, they would have to pry him from JT's cold dead hands.

Fury took over from the fear in JT's heart. Malcolm just couldn't catch a break. It wasn't fair. They weren't going to take him. JT wasn't going to let them. He heard more branches snap and the sound of voices, but JT was too enraged to make the voices out or the words they spoke.

"Don't you touch him!" he shouted into the dark forest. Another voice arose, but JT was too focused on trying to make out the two forms that he saw approaching. He needed to protect Malcolm from them, but he didn't even have a weapon. He would fight them all with his bare hands to keep the kid safe. "Leave him alone!" he shouted.

"Yes, I found them!" someone shouted. In the back of his mind, JT knew the voice was familiar, but the rest of his mind was too overwhelmed with anger and pain and his own blood loss to pay that any mind.

"You're not gonna take him from me," JT practically growled as someone appeared at his side, but long hair, as well as the darkness, obscured their features.

"JT, it's me, it's okay, it's Dani," a voice that JT knew better than his own frantically said. His grip on Malcolm still tight, JT tried to focus on her more - because it was a her, he knew that - but he was nearly hyperventilating in his fear that the mafia was going to get their hands on Malcolm once again.

"We found you, it's okay," the other voice said. That voice was shaking, as if the speaker were crying, and in the back of his mind, JT knew that that was wrong. That voice was supposed to be a pillar of strength. Still, JT kept his place protecting Malcolm, his whole being whittled down to protecting the kid and nothing else. "It's Gil, it's okay now," he said. His voice was calming, and something it told JT that maybe everything really was okay. JT blinked his tears away, and finally focused on the two figures in front of him. Even in the dark, he could tell they were both silently crying, but her curly hair and his goatee were unmistakable. It was Gil and Dani.

"Gil?" he asked, his own voice shaking. The man nodded, finally lowering his hands - which had been held up defensively - and falling to his knees next to JT and Malcolm.

"Yeah, I'm here," Gil said. He was looking down at Malcolm, tears spilling from his eyes.

"He's still alive," JT said through his own tears. "But he needs help. Look at his leg." He looked back down at the mangled mess of the kid's ankle, relieved to see that at the very least, it hadn't gotten any worse.

"A bus is already here," Dani said. JT glanced over and saw her slipping a sat phone onto her belt. "It just has to wait for the firefight to stop."

"I'll carry him closer to the treeline and we'll wait," Gil immediately replied. "You help JT." Gil went to lift Malcolm into his own arms, but JT didn't want to let go. If he let go, then maybe he would never hold him again. The realization that Malcolm had become his little brother was something that brought another onslaught of tears to his eyes. How could he have treated Malcolm so terribly upon their first meeting? Now that Malcolm meant the world to him, he didn't want to ever let the kid go. He needed to protect him. "It's okay," Gil said, looking straight into JT's eyes. "You've taken care of him, now let us take care of you. I've got Malcolm, I promise. I'm not going to let anything happen to him. You can rest."

After a moment, JT nodded and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He relaxed back against the tree, and allowed Gil to slip his arms under Malcolm and pull the kid into his arms, the chain from the bear trap dangling to the ground. It would be tied down somewhere. Gil nodded to Dani, who reached down and began to dig it out. A moment later, she held up a spike that had been driven into the ground to keep the bear trap in place. She gently placed it in Malcolm's lap, but the movement slightly jostled the trap itself. JT almost leapt back to grab Malcolm when the kid let out a pained whimper at the movement, even in his unconsciousness. But this was Gil. Gil loved Malcolm more than anyone or anything in the whole damn world. He wasn't going to let anything happen to him. Maybe JT really could relax.

Gil stepped away, holding Malcolm in his arms, and Dani knelt down by JT.

"You okay?" she asked. JT nodded, even though that definitely wasn't true. The adrenaline boost he'd gotten when Gil and Dani had first approached was quickly fading, leaving him drained and in pain. Bullet wounds didn't magically hurt less just because you were trying to ignore them, and neither didn't broken noses. "Come on," she said, wrapping JT's arm around her shoulders and beginning to pull him up. With a grunt, JT stood, and pulled his arm back to himself. His legs were fine. He could walk on his own-.

He swayed straight back into the tree. JT clutched it for support as Dani reached out for him.

"JT? What's wrong?" she asked, but she answered her own question when she noticed the increase in blood at his shoulder. His frantic movements to protect Malcolm had reopened the barely clotted wound, and it was once again bleeding profusely. Maybe JT was a little weaker than he thought. Still, he needed to see Malcolm, he needed to see that the kid was still safe in Gil's arms.

"Malcolm," he muttered, ignoring Dani.

"Gil has him," she promised. "Now let me help you." Her voice had a pleading quality to it that forced JT to listen to her. She sounded scared. Finally, he looked at her. Her eyes were wide, with tears brimming in them.

"I'm okay," he insisted. It was just a bullet wound and a broken nose. Malcolm had it much worse. Malcolm was the one they all needed to be concerned about. "I need to see the kid," he muttered. JT tried to take a step towards where he remembered Gil standing, but his boss wasn't there anymore, and neither was the kid. He sucked in a breath in surprise. Had he imagined it? Had Gil never really been there? Was Dani even there? Where was Malcolm? JT looked around frantically, but Dani took another hold of his good shoulder.

"It's okay, it's okay," she insisted. "Gil is already trying to get him back down the road. It's safe now, listen," she told him. With bated breath, JT did as she asked. He listened, and heard nothing but the crickets and owls in the night. "The ambulance is ready and waiting, and I think you'll need one too." After a brief moment, JT nodded. She was right, he definitely did need one. "Let's get you down there too, okay? Malcolm's down there," she reminded him.

JT turned, and let Dani help to support him. He was weaker than he thought he was, and so tired. Was that how Malcolm had felt, right before he passed out? Was JT going to pass out in Dani's arms? No, that wasn't fair to her. Dani was stronger than she looked, but JT wasn't going to let her carry him down the hill. He would be fine, he could make it down to Malcolm. They were both going to be fine.

He let out a shaky breath. They were both going to be fine.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end, folks. I think there's only going to be one more chapter, then perhaps an epilogue if it's needed. As always, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!!!

The worst heartbreak that Gil had ever experienced was losing Jackie. It was the worst thing, in general, that Gil had ever gone through. It was worse than Jessica breaking things off with him, worse than losing so many good brothers and sisters in blue on 9/11, worse than anything he had ever experienced. Nothing had ever come even close to the pain of losing his beloved wife. But seeing Malcolm lying there, in JT's arms, looking so lifeless and small? That came damn close. If Gil lost him, if his kid didn't pull through, then the pain of losing Jackie would only be multiplied.

The memory of holding Jackie in his arms as she took her last breaths would never leave his mind. Malcolm had been there, having just managed to slip away from the Bureau for long enough to say goodbye. The kid had been clinging to her hand as Gil held her. Both he and Gil had been crying, but Jackie was smiling as she looked at them.

"This family has been the greatest experience of my life," she said. Her voice was soft with weakness, but still, she smiled. "Being your wife," she turned to Malcolm, "and being your mother, have been the best part of my life." She squeezed Malcolm's hand, undoubtedly using what little strength she had left to comfort them. That was who Jackie was. She was always looking after others before herself.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me," Malcolm said between his tears. He was crying in earnest, but Gil couldn't help him, since he was crying just as much. "You never had to do any of it, and I- I love you so much," he sobbed, his head falling onto her thin shoulder. Jackie weakly turned her head to the side and kissed his forehead.

"I love you too, baby, so, so much," she said. "You take care of Gil, okay? And let him take care of you, too. Stick together, boys." Jackie turned to look back at Gil. She was crying now too, and yet her smile remained. "You have been the love of my life. There is no man I would have rather spent these years with."

"Jackie, please," Gil sobbed, but he didn't even know what he was asking. For her to live? Of course, but it was her time to go and everyone knew it. There was nothing the doctors could do, and nothing Jackie could do. It was her time. "You're the love of mine. I love you more than life itself," he finally said. What else was there to say? They knew each other's every thought. There was nothing that Gil could say to lessen how much it hurt, and there was nothing that Jackie didn't know. And still she smiled through her own tears.

"Take care of our boy, okay? You protect him," she said. Gil nodded vigorously. He would look after Malcolm and protect him with every fiber of his being. Without Jackie, there was nothing and no one more important to him on the planet than Malcolm.

"I promise," he said, and he'd never meant anything more.

Jackie looked between the two of them, holding their hands with both of hers, smile still on her face, but her eyelids seemed to be getting heavier and heavier. It was almost time. "Look after each other. I love you boys more than anything. You are the greatest things to ever happen to me." Her voice was getting softer, becoming a whisper that Gil had to strain to hear. "Always remember how loved you are. Always." Jackie's eyes slipped close, the smile finally fell from her face, her grip on their hands fell away, and she breathed her last.

"Jackie?" Malcolm called out through his tears. His hand was shaking under her still one. "Jackie?" he tried again, his voice breaking.

"She's gone, kid," Gil said through his own tears. He sucked in a deep breath as sobs threatened to overtake him. "She's gone."

Gil and Malcolm sat there, sobbing, holding onto her hands as they grew cold, for as long as they could. Eventually, the doctors had to pry them away in order to take her body, but they just held on to each other as they sobbed. Gil could hear nurses and doctors whispering to others to let them be, to let them grieve, that they'd just lost a wife and a mother. That day, they weren't an FBI agent and a seasoned NYPD lieutenant, or the son of a serial killer and the man who caught the monster. They were just a dad and his kid, grieving the death of the woman who had completed their unorthodox family. It was a wound that would fester, never to be healed completely.

It was, without a doubt, the worst day of Gil's life. He had never experienced a pain that intense before, and he hoped he never would again. But as he carried his bloody and broken kid in his arms, praying that he would get him to the ambulance in time, Gil couldn't help but feel the cold pit of fear in his stomach that he was about to lose the most important person in the world to him. It would be like losing Jackie all over again, but even worse, because this time, he wouldn't have the distraction of taking care of someone else or the knowledge that he still had his kid and he wasn't alone. If he lost Malcolm, Gil knew he would never recover. He could never look Jessica or Ainsley in the eye again, since without Gil, maybe Malcolm would've never gone into law enforcement in the first place. Their team would be fractured, likely broken beyond repair. Both Dani and JT would blame themselves, Dani for not getting there in time and JT for not being able to save him. Edrisa would be a wreck, that went without saying. And Gil? He would be so lost. Malcolm was the most important person in the world to him. He couldn't lose the kid, he just couldn't.

"Hang on, kid, okay?" he muttered to the unconscious boy in his arms. "I've got you." Gil was moving as quickly as he dared. The gunfire had stopped, so he could only hope that the good guys won and the surviving mafia members had surrendered. Gil hoped they weren't all dead - he wanted to have the opportunity to make them suffer himself for what they had done to his kid. He kept moving towards the treeline, but he could only go so quickly without risking jostling Malcolm more than he was okay with. The kid was beat to hell, far more bloodied than just the freaking bear trap still attached to his ankle would cause. Gil couldn't risk making any of it worse.

He could just make out the flashing lights of an ambulance through the trees.

"We're almost there," he muttered, finally getting a reaction from the boy in his arms. A pained whimper reached Gil's ears, loud enough that he stopped in his tracks. Malcolm was waking up. The kid's breathing sped up, and his whimpers turned into soft cries. "Hey, hey, it's alright," Gil whispered to him. "I've got you, it's okay." He looked down at the kid's pale face, illuminated by the moonlight shining through the trees. Gil could just make out the tears that began to stream out of Malcolm's eyes, still squeezed shut. Carefully, Gil took another step forward. He needed to get Malcolm to that ambulance as quickly as he could.

Malcolm cried out as Gil began to walk again. "Stop, no, please," the kid begged through his tears, eyes still shut tight. Gil immediately did as he asked, even though he knew he needed to keep moving. Malcolm needed to understand that he was okay, that he was safe, that Gil had him.

"Hey, kid, it's me, it's Gil," he said. "Can you open your eyes for me?" He could hear movement behind him, but he forced himself to relax. It was only Dani and JT.

"Gil?" Malcolm asked, his voice a broken whisper. It was so hoarse, it sounded painful. Gil's heart broke to know that it could only be hoarse from screaming. Slowly, his eyes opened, revealing those baby blues that Gil had grown to love over the past twenty years.

"Yeah, kiddo. It's me," Gil said as tears began to form again in his own eyes.

"Are you real?" Malcolm asked, as more tears began to fall. He leaned against Gil even more, turning his head to hide his face in Gil's chest. "I want you to be real. Please don't leave me."

"I'm real," Gil immediately responded as his heart continued to break. "I'm taking you to the bus right now. JT too. We found you." He began slowly walking again, and forced himself to ignore the whimpers that it pulled from his kid. Each step was going to jostle him a little bit, there was no way around that. "You're gonna be okay. I've got you, you're safe now."

"J-JT? JT?" he weakly called out between his groans of pain.

"I'm right here," JT called out in response from several paces behind Gil, his voice much stronger than Gil would've thought it could be. He was surprised that JT had even been able to hear the kid, with how weak Malcolm was. JT would've had to have been focusing on Malcolm, the entirety of his attention tuned in to the kid. The more Gil thought about it, the more it made sense, given the trauma they just experienced together. "It's okay, kid," JT said. "Gil's got you."

Malcolm went a little more limp once he heard JT's voice, letting go of the tension he was holding onto and further relaxing in Gil's arms.

"He's right," Gil muttered as he continued walking, approaching the rather steep decline towards the ambulance. "I've got you. I'm gonna take care of you. That's what I always do, take care of my kid."

He may have been speaking more for his own benefit than Malcolm's, since the kid in question was squeezing his eyes shut, the side of his head resting against Gil's chest as he shook with pain. Gil paused for a second, readying himself. He needed to move down the hill at a steady pace, and he couldn't lose his grip on the kid. As small as Malcolm was, he was mostly muscle, with barely any fat on him at all - the kid really didn't eat enough, he was too small - and Gil's adrenaline was quickly fading. Malcolm was dead weight in his arms, and although Gil would carry him to the ends of the earth if he had to, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold on without adjusting his grip - and he couldn't adjust his grip without risking jostling the kid more than he was comfortable with.

"You just hold on to me, okay kid?" Gil asked, but even that was a tall order. He had seen the state of the kid's wrist, he could still see the blood soaked fabric serving as a makeshift bandage. Gil didn't know what had happened, but it certainly didn't put his hand or even the entire arm in working order, considering his shoulder was bloody as well. The only saving grace was that the leg still attached to the bear trap was also the leg that had a bloody bandage around the thigh. Malcolm still had one leg that was fully functional and healthy, but it didn't make much of a difference.

Malcolm nodded and whimpered in response, using his good hand to grip Gil's shirt as tightly as he could, which, admittedly, wasn't very tightly at all. The kid was just so weak. Gil wasn't even sure how he hadn't passed out again. He wanted nothing more than for his kid to be able to not be in agony - and he was in agony, the steady stream of tears that Malcolm wasn't trying to hide was a declaration of the fact.

"Make it stop," Malcolm whimpered, his voice barely even a whisper. He probably hadn't even meant for Gil to hear him.

"I know, kiddo," Gil replied as another tear slipped down his own face. "I'm gonna get you to help, I'm gonna make it stop." He steadied himself, then began the careful descent. He could see the ambulances, and could only hope that that more were on the way. The EMTs were already treating injured SWAT members and mafia men, but Gil needed an ambulance to be able to take both Malcolm and JT to the hospital immediately. His kid was dying in his arms, and JT was in shock. No matter how injured anyone else was, they mattered more to Gil.

Malcolm continued to let out tiny whimpers with every careful step Gil took down the slope. Gil couldn't even begin to imagine the absolute agony that the kid had to be in, and he couldn't even do anything about it. He could only keep moving towards the ambulance.

"I need help!" he shouted as he need the bottom of the hill, alerting the EMTs to his presence. The area was fairly well lit by all of the flashing lights of cop cars and medical vehicles, but he and Dani were bringing the rest of their team in from the dark woods, an area that wasn't well lit. "I've got you, kid," Gil repeated softly. A few shouts by the EMTs near the ambulance later, and a gurney was being rushed towards him by two EMTs. "This is gonna hurt, but I'm right here, I'm not leaving you, okay?" He felt Malcolm nod against him, then hardened his heart.

Gil laid Malcolm down on the gurney as gently as he could, but the moment the kid's foot made contact with the stretcher, Malcolm shrieked, making a weak effort to get up and remove all pressure from the trap still attached to him. Malcolm started sobbing again in earnest, but still wouldn't let go of Gil, sweater with his one good hand.

"It's okay, I'm right here," Gil affirmed, holding onto the kid's shaking hand with both of his own. "I'm not leaving you."

"I'm here too," JT added, appearing at Gil's side. He put his hand on Malcolm's good shoulder, drawing the kid's attention to him. "You're doing so good, kiddo. It's almost over."

The lead EMT turned to Gil and said, softly enough that Malcolm probably couldn't hear him, "we need to take him right now to have any chance of saving his foot."

"I'm not leaving him," Gil immediately responded, tightening his grip on Malcolm's hand.

"I'm going too," JT added. He was already moving into the ambulance.

The EMTs looked between each other, then the lead one looked back at Gil. "Fine, but we need to leave immediately," he said, although he didn't sound too pleased that he was going to have so many people in his bus.

Gil turned back to Dani, realizing that he was leaving her both in charge of the scene, and leaving her alone, separating her from the rest of their makeshift family. Could he really do that to her? Gil stared at her through his watery eyes, opening and closing his mouth. He didn't know what to say, what to ask.

"Go, it's okay," she said. Her gaze was steeled and she straightened her back. "I know you can't leave him. I've got this." She nodded, crossing her arms to hide the deep breath she was taking. But there was nothing but honesty in her eyes. Dani really did want him to stay with Malcolm and JT. She understood, and she was telling him that it was okay.

"Thank you," he said, stressing the words, then immediately turned back to his kid and the EMTs. They were slipping an oxygen mask onto Malcolm, but that was probably just an extra precaution. "Can you put him out, please?" he asked them as they began to wheel Malcolm onto the bus - and Malcolm's cries grew louder at every stick and stone they rolled over. Out of the corner of his eye, Gil could see that there were members of the SWAT team and the mafia men they were arresting that did in fact need medical attention, but he couldn't bring himself to feel the least bit guilty about taking the ambulance for Malcolm and JT. His team was always going to matter more to him.

"Gil? JT?" Malcolm called out. The kid tried to lift his head up, but it quickly fell back down onto the gurney.

"We're right here," Gil responded the moment he hopped into the back of the ambulance. He needed to stay out of the way, to give the EMTs plenty of room to work on both the kid and JT, but his instincts kept screaming at him to hold his kid's hand and never let go. In the light of bus, Gil could finally see just how hurt his kid was. The damn trap was biting into his ankle, soaking everything in blood. Even the EMTs cringed when they looked at it. There was blood all over Malcolm's shoulder, wrist, and thigh as well. Gil didn't know what the cause of those injuries were, but he would be willing to bet it had something to do with the torture one of their SWAT guys was sure took place at the cabin. Once again, Gil wanted to strangle the men who had touched his kid, who had put him in this situation in the first place.

"I'm not leaving you, kid," JT added from his place on the spare gurney. Malcolm managed to turn his head to the side, so he could see both Gil and JT. "We're not leaving you."

An EMT moved to stand between them, doing his job, but blocking JT and Gil from Malcolm's line of sight, and him from theirs. The man did something, Gil couldn't see what, and Malcolm shrieked again.

"Please, just give him something, put him out," Gil begged, despite knowing that the man was doing everything he could to help. The bus started to move, but Gil stood and moved towards the gurney, coming to stand right behind Malcolm. He made himself as out of the way as he could, but his kid needed him. Gil put his hand on his shoulder, the only thing he could do to help.

"We need to focus on keeping him stable right now," the EMT said far more gently than Gil was giving him credit for. He continued, in a voice only meant for Gil to hear, "once he's at the hospital, he'll be taken straight to surgery, and they'll try to save the limb. Until then, my main concern is keeping his vitals up. I know it's hard to see someone you love in pain, but I need to do whatever I can to keep him alive." The EMT gave Gil a sad smile, then put his attention back on Malcolm. The other EMT did whatever the lead one told him to, and didn't pay Gil any mind.

Gil nodded, even though his heart was breaking. He kept up a litany of reassurances as the EMTs worked around him, making sure that Malcolm knew he was there, and never leaving him. JT did the same from his place a few feet away. Gil could tell how exhausted the other man was. The EMTs were more or less ignoring JT, since it was clear how much worse off Malcolm was, but Gil couldn't ignore him completely. It looked like it was physically painful for JT to stay awake, but he was trying anyway, so scared that if he fell asleep, Malcolm would be gone when he woke up. Gil could understand that fear. It was something he had faced frequently over the prior twenty years.

"Gil..." Malcolm muttered from underneath his oxygen mask. He weakly lifted his good hand up, and Gil rushed to take it.

"Yeah, kid, I'm right here," he said, gently rubbing his kid's hand with his thumb.

But Malcolm didn't reply, his eyes closed once again, and they didn't open.

"Kid? Malcolm?" Gil called out. The ambulance hit a speed bump, implying that they were near the hospital, but Malcolm didn't so much as flinch.

"His vitals are dropping," one of the EMTs said. "Sir, I need you to move." Eyes wide and heart shattering, Gil did as he was told, and moved to sit next to JT, whose thousand yard stare fell on Malcolm. Neither one of them said anything, both too lost in their own fear for Malcolm to comprehend anything else.

They were pulled from their stupors the moment the ambulance stopped moving. They stayed out of the way as the EMTs shoved the doors open and quickly pulled Malcolm's gurney out and handed him off to the ER nurses scrambling about. Gil rushed off the bus and chased after them, into the hospital, with JT right on his heels. He was barely able to get a grip on Malcolm's hand before the nurses were pushing him away.

"He's going straight into the OR, you have to stay here," the woman said, her voice firm and commanding. She was just doing her job. She was just trying to save Gil's kid. He needed to let her.

Still, it took JT grabbing onto his shoulder to stop him from forcing his way into the OR after them.

"Boss," JT said, his voice breaking. "They've got him, now. They're gonna take care of him." He looked at Gil with tears in his eyes. Gil wasn't sure he had ever seen JT cry before. "They're gonna save him. He's a strong kid. You taught him to be strong, he's your kid. He's gonna be okay." JT said it with certainty, with finality, but his face was anything but certain.

As Gil looked back towards the doors leading to the OR, he could only hope that JT was right.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've arrived at the end my friends. I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. There's plenty more pson fic to come from me, but I do have a few other obligations I must attend to first. As always, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review :)

THREE DAYS LATER

The first thing Malcolm became aware of was the soreness of his throat. He needed water. When was the last time he had water? He tried to open his eyes, to leave the blackness that he saw all around him, but they were too heavy. Opening his eyes could wait.

The second thing he became aware of was the peace he felt. There was faint pain across his entire body, a little sharper in his ankle, but it wasn't anything he couldn't power through. Malcolm was lying down, surrounded by softness and warmth. There was something on his wrist, but it didn't feel like his restraints. Whatever it was, it was moving, lightly, running slowly across his hand in calming ministrations. It felt good. It felt like safety, like home. There was a steady beeping noise in the background, along with muffled voices that Malcolm couldn't quite make out, but he found that he didn't mind. He felt better than he had a while, but considering how much pain he'd been in when he stepped onto a bear trap, that was a pretty low bar.

The bear trap.

The Albanians.

JT.

Malcolm forced his eyes open as it all came rushing back to him, like a dam collapsing and releasing a river of memories that Malcolm would've rather forgotten. He had thought he was going to die out there in that cold forest. Malcolm looked wildly around, but he was too weak to turn his head.

"Hey, hey," a calming voice said to his left. The pressure on his hand increased, and Malcolm immediately felt just a little bit better. It was Gil, he could see him out of the corner of his eye. "You're okay, I'm right here. JT's here too."

"J-JT?" Malcolm managed to croak out. His throat was dry and scratchy. Even just speaking those two syllables hurt.

"He's okay," Gil said softly. It was then that Malcolm realized that Gil was whispering - so who were the muffled voices he'd heard before? Gil motioned to the other side of the room, and, with seemingly herculean effort, Malcolm managed to turn his head over to past the foot of the hospital bed, where a couch lay. JT was sound asleep, his arm in a sling. Other than that, he looked unharmed. "And you're okay too," Gil continued. He reached to the side and procured a bottle of water, and helped Malcolm to take a few sips. Malcolm wanted more, but Gil pulled it away. "You need to go slow. You've been out for a few days."

"Gil," Malcolm said. He didn't know what else to say. He had been so scared, but he was alive, and he was in the hospital, and he was okay. But he'd stepped on a bear trap. What if he'd lost the limb? Tears gathered in his eyes as he thought about it. He was too scared to look.

"It's okay," Gil insisted as the tears started to fall. "I'm right here, you're okay, kid."

"Is my- my foot- is it-," he broke off. Malcolm couldn't even say it.

"It'll be fine, it's still there," Gil insisted. He stood up from his seat right next to the bed and pulled back the blankets that covered Malcolm, revealing his casted ankle. The cast reached from his toes all the way up to just below his knee. "Surgeries have come a long way. Eight weeks and this cast will be gone, then you can start physical therapy, and soon enough, you'll be good as new."

Malcolm let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as more tears fell, this time fueled by relief. He hadn't lost the limb. He was going to be okay. His wrist was casted as well, where the drill had broken the bones, and that arm was in a sling. Malcolm could feel the bandages on his shoulder, as well as on his thigh and ribs.

"It was pretty bad, when you got in," Gil said, his voice heavy with regret as he sat back down his chair, blankets once again keeping Malcolm warm, as well as Gil's hand covering his own. "You'd lost a lot of blood, but the transfusions were successful. You're gonna be okay."

But Gil had mentioned that it had been a few days, and Malcolm had heard voices before he woke up. Could it have been his mom and Ainsley? Dani? Tally? He missed them so much.

"Where's my mom?" he asked, his voice breaking. Maybe Malcolm was too old to be wanting his mom, but he didn't care. On a psychological level, Malcolm knew it was a base instinct to seek out maternal care at any age, no matter what society said.

"We convinced the girls to all get some real sleep at the hotel," Gil replied with a nod. "They just left a few minutes before you woke up. Convincing Tally to leave while JT stayed wasn't easy, but Dani managed it. They'll be back in the morning, unless you want me to call them back sooner."

Malcolm just managed to shake his head. If they needed real sleep, he didn't want to be the reason why they didn't get any. It was bad enough that Gil and JT were sacrificing a real bed for him. He looked back over at the man on the couch. If it weren't for JT, Malcolm would be dead. The only reason he was alive was JT. How could he ever make it up to the man? What could be done to repay him?

"He's fine," Gil continued, likely seeing Malcolm staring at JT. "He just needs some rest, and time for his shoulder to heal, and he'll be good as new. He's barely left the room since you've been in here."

"He saved me," Malcolm muttered. "He could've gotten away, but he saved me instead. Then he stayed with me, even though that could've meant he would die too. Why would he do that for me?" he asked, turning back to Gil with tears in his eyes. Malcolm was so used to Gil being the only one who ever did anything like that for him. Why would JT be willing to sacrifice his own life for Malcolm's, especially when he had a baby on the way? Malcolm just wasn't worth that risk.

"Oh, kid," Gil sighed, continuing to gently run his hand up and down Malcolm's arm in calming ministrations. "This team loves you. We're a family, and that's what you do for family. You are worth so much more than you think you are. We all know what you would do for us. Don't you know we would all do the same for you?" Gil shook his head and gave Malcolm's hand a squeeze. "We love you so much."

Malcolm dropped his gaze, unsure how to respond. He loved his team more than anything, and of course he wanted them to love him in return, but now that he was actually hearing that they did love him, Malcolm wasn't sure if he could believe it. On an intellectual level, Malcolm knew he only doubted their love because of his father. Dr. Whitly had drilled into him that he was too messed up for people to love, that everyone was going to leave him, that the only one who loved him was his father, and that he would never be anything more than a useful tool for others to use and then discard once he'd lost his usefulness. Despite the work that Gil had done to dismantle those thoughts and ideas, Malcolm still had a hard time not believing that they were the truth. Even when he was directly faced with the opposite, Malcolm's mind just couldn't comprehend the reality that he could be loved.

"He's right," came a husky voice from the other side of the room. Malcolm looked up to see JT sitting up on the couch. The man groaned as he stretched a bit, clearly having just woken up. JT stood and walked over to the other side of the bed, planting himself down in the chair and mirroring Gil's position. "We care about you, dude. And I'm so glad you're okay," he said, then averted his gaze, but not before Malcolm saw the tears that glistened in them. "You scared us, man, you scared me." JT looked back up at Malcolm. There were still tears in his eyes. "Out in the woods, when I was holding you, I thought you were dying, kid, and there was nothing I could do about it. Gil sent me with you to protect you, and I failed." JT shook his head and looked away.

"You saved my life," Malcolm immediately replied. He could still feel Gil holding his hand, which was beginning to shake. But Gil's steady presence was soothing, and calmed him, despite the memories of the torture and the pain. "You came back for me, you got me out of there, and then you stayed with me until help arrived. I would be dead if it weren't for you."

"He's right," Gil added before JT could reply. "This kid can't stay out of trouble no matter what, but if it weren't for you, JT, I would've- he would've-," he broke off for a moment, his voice breaking. "I would've lost my kid if it weren't for you. You kept him alive, you were ready to protect him or die trying. I could never ask for more than that." Gil shook his head, squeezing Malcolm's hand.

Malcolm reached up with his other hand - the one in the cast thanks to the power drill breaking the bones in his wrist - as much as he could while still keeping it in its position in the sling, just enough to lift it towards JT. JT quickly got the message and reached out and took a light hold of it, taking Malcolm's fingers in his hand more than anything else. He was fast enough that Malcolm barely had time to feel any pain before his wrist and shoulder were once again resting in comfortable positions, most of the pain abated by whatever medications the hospital had put him on. Malcolm wasn't feeling any effects of withdrawal, so Gil must have told them what meds he was normally on and gotten the hospital to keep him on them. Gil always took such good care of him.

"Thank you," Malcolm finally said, letting all of his emotion bleed into his voice. He'd been told by friend and foe alike that his eyes were very expressive, so Malcolm hoped that JT could see just how grateful he was. There was nothing else he could say. He owed JT a debt that he was never going to be able to repay. There was no way that he could adequately explain to the man how much it meant to him that he'd saved his life and stuck by him, even when he could've gotten away saved his own skin instead.

But instead of making JT feel better, Malcolm's words seemed to make JT feel worse. The man looked at him with something akin to heartbreak, and Malcolm didn't know why. What had he done? How had Malcolm messed up this time?

"Why don't you see that we love you?" JT asked him, startling Malcolm with his bluntness. "You're saying thank you as if this wasn't something that I had to do, as if I had another choice other than to stay with you and try to protect you. You would die for me, for Gil, for Dani. Can't you see that we would die for you too?"

"You mean the world to us, kid," Gil interjected, his voice filled with nothing but love and sincerity. "To all of us." He rubbed his thumb up and down on Malcolm's hand in calming motions. Those motions always reminded Malcolm that he was okay, that he was safe, and that he was loved.

"I'm sorry," he replied, his voice breaking. Malcolm knew he should be better, that he should've been able to grow past all of the issues that his father had left him with, but he couldn't, he just couldn't, and that made him broken and Malcolm didn't know how to be fixed.

"No, kid, you don't have anything to apologize for," JT said before Malcolm could keep going down his self destructive spiral. He scooted closer to Malcolm, as close as he could be without getting on the hospital bed himself. "None of this is your fault. We just want you to see that you are worth something, that you're worth everything, to us."

Malcolm didn't know how to respond. What was he supposed to say? They didn't want him to apologize again, and they didn't need him to explain - everyone knew he was the way he was because of his father - so what was he supposed to say?

"I'm not the only one who always has your back," Gil added with a gentle smile, stealing Malcolm's attention. "Your whole team has your back, to the very end."

"This team is a family," JT continued. "And family looks out for each other, okay?"

Finally, Malcolm nodded, despite the tears gathering in his eyes. He didn't know how to respond to being loved so much. Malcolm didn't know if he'd ever been so loved before. Scientifically, Malcolm knew his tears were just because he was so overwhelmed with emotion. The body's natural response to that much emotion, positive or negative or both, was to cry in order to bring about emotional equilibrium. But that didn't mean that Malcolm liked crying so much in front of Gil and JT, even though he was in the hospital and on so many pain meds that he couldn't stop the tears from falling. In his weakened state and drug addled mind, all Malcolm wanted was for Gil and JT to just hold him, but he didn't have to strength to even sit up. Malcolm reached his good hand - the one that Gil was still holding - up towards Gil, hoping that his mentor would understand his unspoken request. He tried to sit up with a whimper of pain, but he didn't have the strength.

"It's okay, let me help you," JT said. He let go of Malcolm's casted hand and tapped the button to raise the bed as Gil moved from the chair to sitting on the edge of the bed, and gently pulled Malcolm into his arms, knowing exactly what Malcolm had wanted.

"We've got you," Gil said, gently holding Malcolm to him. Malcolm's head was resting on Gil's shoulder, but he was looking at JT through his tear filled gaze. His casted hand was sitting between himself and Gil, but he motioned with it towards JT as much as the pain in his wrist and shoulder would allow. Any bit of dignity he had was gone long ago, so he didn't worry about the embarrassment of being held by the men. "We've always got you," Gil continued as JT leaned in and joined him, just like Malcolm needed.

"You're okay," JT added, his voice breaking as he held Malcolm to them. "We're both okay."

Malcolm was content to stay there, in their arms, for as long as they would let him. He'd been in a plane crash, tortured, and he'd stepped on a bear trap and almost died. If he wanted to be held for an hour, then damnit, he should be allowed to be held for an hour. Malcolm stayed there, soaking up their presence, breathing in their familiar, calming scents, until all of his tears dried up. He stayed there, basking in the fact that he and JT were both alive, and that he wasn't alone anymore. It was a dangerous thought, but maybe he wouldn't ever have to be alone again.

Gil and JT continued to hold him, gently rubbing his back and carding fingers through his hair, keeping him safe and secure. All of Malcolm's anxiety faded away, and all he felt was peace. He was exhausted. His eyes were closed, and in that very real place of peace and safety, Malcolm felt himself relaxing more and more, until the world slipped away once again.

...

FIVE DAYS LATER

"I'm done, I want to go home," Malcolm whined like a petulant teenager. JT rolled his eyes. The kid had been getting antsier every day since waking up. He'd insisted on lower doses of pain meds after falling asleep in Gil and JT's arms, an event that none of them spoke of, but JT knew Malcolm had sorely needed, and that JT would be more than willing to provide again should the kid need it. JT had barely left the hospital room, even after Malcolm woke up. Either he or Gil was with Malcolm literally every single moment, and they were often joined by Tally, Mrs. Whitly, Ainsley, and Dani. The kid was never alone. None of them were going back to New York until Malcolm could leave, which was probably going to be that day. He was getting stir crazy, and was no longer in danger of infection or anything else possibly life threatening.

"What are you gonna do at home that's so different to resting here?" JT asked. It was just him and Dani with Malcolm. Gil was out with the rest of the girls getting them all some real food. Malcolm had been the one to finally convince Gil to go get some fresh air, since the man hadn't left the hospital grounds once since Malcolm had been admitted.

"I'll have Sunshine," Malcolm replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. As it was, Edrisa had been taking care of the bird, being the only one who hadn't been able to come up with an acceptable excuse to leave work for so long. Of course, that hadn't stopped her from FaceTiming Malcolm every day and making sure he knew just how much she missed him.

JT had been skeptical of Sunshine as some form of an emotional support animal, but at the look of innocence of the kid's face, JT couldn't argue that the bird wasn't good for him. Once, while Malcolm had been asleep, JT and Gil had quietly discussed Sunshine, and how really, it would be better for Malcolm to have a dog, but it just wasn't realistic at the time being.

"I bet she misses you," Dani said from her spot reclined on the couch like she was at a spa. She had been feeding into Malcolm's desires to go home, being of absolutely no help to everyone who thought it best for Malcolm to stay until he was discharged by the doctors, and not when the kid wanted to sign himself out AMA.

"Exactly," Malcolm said, turning back to JT. Finally, JT sighed and fondly rolled his eyes. It was hard to deny the kid's puppy eyes. And to think that at one time, he'd been immune. Those times were long gone, and never to return. He was just as helpless to them as Gil and Dani and Edrisa were. "I just want to go home, and get things back to normal," he said.

JT turned away. Things weren't going to be normal. The kid had a bunch of new scars, and at least a month of PT before things could even start getting back to normal, and that was only physically. This new trauma would haunt Malcolm and JT both for a long time. JT hadn't mentioned it to the kid, but his own nightmares were nearly as bad as Malcolm's. He hadn't yet woken up screaming like the kid did, but he'd dreamt almost every night that Malcolm had bled out in his arms, or that the Albanians had killed him, or that the plane crash did, or some variant of that. Each time he woke up, the first thing he did was look to Malcolm, to make sure that he really was alive and mostly well. Not to mention the fact that Malcolm had woken up screaming or in a panic attack several times whilst in the hospital. That wasn't necessarily so different from normal, but still. JT hated that Malcolm had all of this new trauma to deal with on top of everything else. It wasn't fair.

"I can deal with a wheelchair," Malcolm continued, ducking his head to catch JT's gaze. "What I can't deal with is staying in the bed for another few days." Of course, the kid wasn't going to be able to use crutches. Crutches required full use of both hands, and Malcolm didn't have that. A wheelchair was the logical option over a scooter too, for the same reason.

"Well you're in luck," Dani interjected with a smile. She looked away from her phone towards Malcolm and JT. "Gil said to stop trying to stop you from leaving. He's on his way back with some clothes for you, and he and your mom came to an agreement about him staying with you at your loft while you recover."

"I'll take it," Malcolm replied. He smiled so widely that JT couldn't hep but smile too. Besides, if Gil was going to be staying with the kid, then JT had no reason to worry. Gil loved Malcolm more than anything. He would make sure the kid was eating enough and staying hydrated, and would help him with everything he needed. Gil would take care of him.

It wasn't as if JT wasn't going to be stopping by as much as he could anyway. Even with Gil taking care of him, JT needed to make sure, to see with his own eyes, that Malcolm was doing okay. After going through something like they had, that was to be expected, JT knew that on a intellectual level. But on a personal level, it still surprised him how much he suddenly cared about and truly loved Malcolm. He hadn't been exaggerating when he told Malcolm that he thought of him as he brother. Every single word he'd spoken to Malcolm out in those woods had been true. He loved the kid dearly and wanted to protect him.

"I'm sure Tally will be making us come by with dinner at least once a week," JT said, deflecting how much he cared and pretending that it was going to be Tally initiating bringing those dinners.

"You don't have to, she's about to pop," Malcolm replied with a wave of his good hand.

"You don't wanna miss out on her cooking," Dani interjected once again, back to looking at her phone. She was much better at acting casual when she cared than JT was. Maybe he would have to pick up a few tricks from her.

JT gave a few overexaggerated nods. "She wants to help you too," he said, referring to Tally. She wanted to take care of them both.

The doctor came in a few minutes later, and rolled his eyes when Malcolm excitedly proclaimed that he was leaving, whether the doctor liked it or not. The AMA papers were easy enough to sign after that, and soon enough, Malcolm was clad in fresh clothes from Gil, and was being ushered out by his team and family.

Despite his injuries, Malcolm was still talking a mile a minute as Gil rolled his wheelchair out of the hospital. That was the Malcolm that JT had originally hated. That was the Malcolm that JT now knew and loved. The thought brought a smile to JT's face. He squeezed his wife's hand as the two walked, his other still in a sling because of his shoulder.

"What's got you so happy?" Tally quietly asked him, a smile on her own face.

"Just thankful," JT replied. He had his wife and their unborn child, and he had his little brother. It was going to be a long road until things were back to normal, but they were already on their way there, and JT knew that everything was going to be just fine.

THE END


End file.
